hectic and weird

So this blog keeps getting away from me. Its been six days since my last post. I promised to post the poem I read at the last event and I will. It will be at the end of this post.
This past week has been a very strange experience for me. I am still not sure how my job situation is going to turn out. Jeannie and my friends have been incredibly supportive. Luckily I didn't have too much time to dwell on things because of all of the events I attended this week. On Wednesday I went to Jessica and Rich's feature as I mentioned before, then Thursday was the awards ceremony for Barbara Jane Reyes at the Academy of American Poets. This was really a great night, Barbara was a great reader and I got to hear Gerald Stern who was hilarious. I bought his book at the reading and I love it from cover to cover. I am going to have to get his entire works, some now, some for Christmas. Time to go to the strand.
On Friday I went to a Birthday party for Rich and Jessica and some people I didn't know. Happy Birthday to them all. It was a lot of fun. The synonymous crew was dynamite as the band, with the documentary Rise playing in the background. The costume designs and makeup were incredible too. It was Blastin!
On Saturday I went to two parties. One at Lynne's house in Carroll Gardens, for which I made pupusas and frijoles colados. It was a packed party with loads of people and loads of food. A crew of singers crooning 80's soft rock hits with Patrick Rosal on the guitar. From there I went to Sidd's Birthday/ going away party. It was at Blue and Gold in the east village. This place was packed with NYU students, but the drinks were so incredibly cheap I would be tempted to go back. They had double shots of Grey Goose for $4 dollars, and that's their regular price!! It was a good time. I had good talks with Omar, Reggie and Jason. I hope Sidd has a really successful trip in India and he gets all of the footage needed for his documentary.
Sunday was a home day, but then on Monday I went to the Alliance of New York State Arts Organizations awards dinner at the Copacabana as they awarded Quang, from the Asian American Writer's Workshop, the Distinguished Service Award. It was a pretty poorly run event that was filled with old politicians and ancient arts benefactors but Quang's speech was at least lively and touching, and the food was decent. Kitty Carlisle-Hart was there presenting an award. She just turned 800 years old. Happy birthday to her. She was in "A night a the Opera" with Groucho Marx, as well as being a fixture on Broadway. She sang "Always", and can still sing pretty well. I hope when I am 800 I can sing like that. No that I can sing now, but I have 770 years to take it up.
That brings me to today. I voted at the local public school. I know Bloomberg is going to win , so I threw my support behind the Green party candidate. I also voted yes on Proposition 2 because I really would like to see more subway service without having to pay more for a metro card, as well as wanting to see the 2nd Avenue line. A 10th Avenue line would be nice too, like in the old days. Anyways, I have so much to do.

Here is the poem I promised almost a week ago, it doesn't have a title. I am also not sure about the last three stanzas. Let me know what you think:

These are cold times
The mountains shake with grief
Dusty limbs quiver in the
Growing wind
The fading light does little to obscure the wails of
Young Mothers and old sons
Their knuckles bloodied from
Incessantly digging
Incessantly praying

These re dark times
The coastlines are flooded with tears
The patience for inequality
Slides like shoes on wet tile. All of the
Tuesdays have grown thin. All of the
Wednesdays have turned to ash
There is no shelter from poverty

These are selfish times
The waves crash overhead like tourists
Searching for an exotic paradise
Shock of loss caked on brown faces
TV images rush in over torn piles of
Wrapping paper inundating
Living rooms with guilt

These are pompous times
Warmongers pound fists on desks
There is no more money for aid
There is no more money for AIDS
No more money for wheezing children
The bombs are growing stale in hangars
Planes are becoming obsolete
Helicopters have no time for rescue
When they are shooting at your feet

These are surreal times
The news is filled with Katie's belly
With World Series dreams
The images of disaster brief
or crawling along the bottom of newscasts so as not to
Disturb the pleasant American mood

These are greedy times
Well groomed nails of the upper crust
Finger expensive Cashmere cloth, Kashmir Cloth
Careful not to catch their privilege on the sharp irony
Fatigue they banter
How much do they expect us to give
Perhaps I'll buy a toys for tots at Christmas. As if a
Family having lost two children
Would not mourn the loss of a third
Not tear as much skin
Not prepare the tomb
Not wring their hands raw

These are strange times
Times of fear and outrage
Troubles and doubt
We either open our hearts or
Harden them forever more

These could be hopeful times
To ignore borders, history
Religion, class

At these times there should be
One common rhythm in our chests
One common song in our throats
One common thought in our minds
Let us help until there is no-one that needs it