Andy and James, RIP, among a circle of friends at a reading a decade ago.

That Summer Feeling, Summer Dispatches 2026.

“The most intelligent… find their happiness … in the labyrinth…”

― Nietzsche, The Antichrist, section 57

All summer long, I found myself thinking about the Existentialists, reading Simone de Beauvoir, particularly, A Very Easy Death (French: Une mort très douce), her 1964 memoir tracing the final weeks and death of her 78-year-old mother, Françoise. I love to read Simone’s stories of her attachments and the struggles she finds in them, the possibilities of her commitments, her tales of friendship and engagement, her phenomenological observations, the questions about meaning, her heartbreaks, and friendships with Albert Camus, as meditations on the ways we live our lives.

At the beach, I read, At the Existentialist Café: Freedom, Being, and Apricot Cocktails, “a 2016 book written by British writer Sarah Bakewell that covers the philosophy and history of existentialism. The book provides an account of the modern day existentialists who came into their own before and during the Second World War. The book discusses the ideas of the phenomenologist Edmund Husserl, and how his teaching influenced the rise of existentialism through the likes of Martin Heidegger, Jean Paul Sartre, and Simone De Beauvoir, who are the main protagonists of the book. The title refers to an incident in which Sartre's close friend and fellow philosopher Raymond Aron startled him when they were in a cafe, by pointing to the glass in front of him and stating, "You can make a philosophy out of this cocktail."

The books were companions all summer. June-July World Cup, out to Greece and Albania in July, back to August, in NYC, writing, hitting the beach, writing, at the bookstore, writing, taking care of the family, a few demos, out into the streets. June, July, the World Cup was in full swing. A bicentennial trip through time, a half century later, with the Semiquincentennial—the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence—on July 4, 2026. Not sure anyone wanted to celebrate. Still a lot of family were about, the kids both here from Boston and LA, Will here from Sweeden. We watched as many World Cup as we could. And said goodbye to a few legends, James Wagner, of ACT UP /Action Tours, Joane Plume, Rise and Resist, Shannon the Cat, who was with us for two decades, and pop icons, Dolly Parton and Tim Curry, my favorite sweet transvestite from Transexual Transylvania. A few notes along the way. I worked on finishing my Berlin travel book all summer long, dreams and poems, and a few dispatches in between.

August 30th

Sundays are full days around here, from Judson to Village Works, where @Dorothyfuzz was doing a popup, and Ally was repping authors, down the street from Tompkins

Square Park, where the Luddite Club was convening, and the Charlie Parker Jazz Festival was popping. And James dropped by, we said hi to Joe, talked about Chino and books and the Transcendentalists, and 886 was serving its last meals, and Kai joined us at the Nursery for some dancing outside at Public Records, till closing.

August 29th

Chino's memorial.

Poet and playwright Jesús Papoleto Melendez, one of the founding poets of the Nuyorican poetry, recalled Lower East Side legend Carlos "Chino" Garcia, founder of Charas el Bohio, a legendary squatted school building on E 9th Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Speaker after speaker recalled a gospel according to Chino, what it meant as a ten year old kid to get to the Lower East Side and find a world, Rev Peter Acevedo recalled admiring Chino, feeling like he was family, a place where people were building something with what they had, squatting buildings, poems flying. Some of the best organizers I know found their way to Charas, where organizers planned to defend Vieques Island from US bombs, where the theater popped, Reclaim the Streets held meetings. They became a family, said Acevedo, connecting us as activists. Chino helped create a space where we could all belong, where we didn't see flaws, we saw possibility, where we took the resources we had, see what you can do, where different people can bring what they had, a bit of community and justice, where we take care of others and become a force larger than ourselves, and find a bit of our own story in the story of others. Listen to the story of the grandparents, says

Papoleto, maintain the archives of the encyclopedia of their lives. We should give Chino a standing ovation for a life well lived. Hey Papa, how are you? Luis Guzman greeted Chino. He told stories of meeting Chino 52 years ago on e 5th street, moving in, finding a place, finding a world on e 9th Street. Many of us saw that. Thank you Lynn, Anthony, others who were there. Rev Billy and Savitri who sang.

From Chino's funeral, we rode out to the beach, enjoying a stroll through the loopy and wonderful burlesque and sideshows, the characters enjoying a bit of the magic on the water, a cold beer a street, some cold water and the Wonderwheel, looking at the sweet unknown, bodies in history, on the promenade.

August 28th

Judy’s birthday

Oh Hi Judy, Hi James, Popeye! Thanks for chatting into the Brooklyn night.

August 27th

I think I found Caroline's lost record collection at Every Thing Goes Book Cafe and Neighborhood Stage, a used bookstore on Staten Island. They are having an Ivan Illych birthday party next Friday, said one of the volunteers. Everyone greets you there. Rain poured as we left, the car drifted into the ocean with all the flooding. Escaping the rain, Mom hung out with us as we watched Twin Peaks into the rainy night. The search for Laura P is on. We all stayed up late Mom telling me about her grandfather's old rug in the living room.

August 26th

We've been here before. The city moves fast. It's a Darwinian struggle on the streets. But it does not have to be. After hit-and-run drivers have killed three bike riders in just three days, we're coming together to demand action from City Hall. This year alone, 17 bike riders have lost their lives on city streets, and we won't stay quiet while our friends, neighbors, and loved ones are killed. Wednesday, August 26th at 5:30 p.m. cyclists met at City Hall Park for a die-in to remember those we've lost and demand action before a single other New Yorker is killed. Kate and Babs and Yana and Baruch and so many other supporters were on hand.

As Kate wrote in her Observations of an Activist Blog:

“After 3 bicyclists died in hit and runs in one week, in a year when bike fatalities are up by 70% to 17 in the first 8 months of 2026 people decided to take action. Transportation Alternatives and a group of families who lost loved ones sent out a call for people to die in at city hall park to call on the administration to implement safety measures like universal daylighting. I made my way gingerly from Canal St to the park feeling for the curb edges with my feet and squinting at the walk signs since my glasses were missing. I got to the park a little early, and realized I didn’t know exactly where and I couldn’t just walk around so I sat down by the fountain. As it got closer to 5:30pm, I saw some blurry ppl with bikes gathering so I went and sat near them. It was interesting being in a growing crowd of activists that I didn’t know. Eventually Ben, who I can recognize by shape and the energy with which he moves, showed up. We gathered Yana, who I know from several long DC trips in Ben’s car and another friend and joined the milling crowd. “This is not one of Ride and Resist’s precisely timed actions,” I said to Ben and it got later and people wondered what the plan was. Eventually there was the usual barely audible megaphone speech, followed by a bereaved mother. Then the instructions. The crowd was packed tightly and they should have instructed to spread out before lying down to make room, especially with the bikes which were dying in too, upside down with wheels in the air. We all squeezed in and I stiffly sank to the ground. A saxophone began playing a hauntingly mournful song and it was quiet after the initial flurry of press getting their photos. I looked up at the late summer 6pm sky and the branches overhead and fell into the spell of the moment. I think everyone else did too, because when the bagpipe stopped, nobody moved for a few more minutes and then we began clambering to our feet, most more gracefully than me. Sometimes I think I should practice getting up and down from the floor to be ready for occasions like this. I just finished neck pt but I laughed inwardly at the idea of asking for pt exercises specifically to facilitate activism. It could be a book “Exercises for Aging Activists”.

August 25th

RIP Tim, my all time # 1 sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania. One million midnite movies later, our lives would never be the same.

August 24th

Digging through the stacks at Village Works with Ally and a surprise visitor from LA, I found a copy of the obit for Roland Barthes. In between a snack and a stroll through Search and Destroy, it's all moving, the whole city mourning Dolly departing.

I remember watching Nine to Five, years and years ago. And then found out she wrote this song. Dad loved picking up her tapes for road trips. Coat of Many Colors, an ally like others. RIP Dolly.

August 22

With summer coming to an end, we found our way to Jacob Riis Beach for an afternoon, dipping in and out of the warm water, navigating a few raindrops, clouds, back to blue skies, out to the concession stand where dance music played, queer bodies in motion. Reading the final pages of At the Existentialist Cafe, Simone B the consummate phenomenologist. Planes flew overhead, including one with the kid from Los Angeles, home for a few days. Summer into fall, into the dream.

August 22

Full day in motion, reading Simone saying goodbye to her mother in A Very Easy Death, contemplating my own goodbyes. Back at Judson, Ruby reminds us the world goes round and round, no matter what happens with us. A French woman came in asking us for book and restaurant tips at Village Works, chatting about Paris and New York, the way we see each other, looking for a Mamdami tshirt, as Ally struck a pose and the teenager rang up a few books. Ken and I walked about, looking at Picasso's goat, stumbling into Jim Eigo at the Duchamp show at MOMA. Is art ultimately just another commodity form? And

Ray read his homage to love and friendship,

Old Man Inside His Cat Suit, at Elizabeth Street Garden, amidst the fashion models, telling their stories. Anatole told me about his father over dumplings. We strolled over to Punjabi and had some samosas. The sun started to set on a long Sunday. And the f was actually on time. And all said goodnight.

Aug 23

Woke up, talking with Mom about dreams, out to Brooklyn where everyone is recalling the 250th Anniversary of the Battle of Brooklyn, the largest battle of the American War for Independence, the largest engagement of the war. Public displays of disaffection, building community, fighting back. At the Old Stone House of Brooklyn, Wendy notes its,

"A vivid reminder that democracy is alive, as long as we vote every time & take part in civil life..." Baby C is out looking fabulous at Village Works, Mom and I listen to the breeze, recalling our family roadtrips to Monticello during the bicential, a half century ago, talking about the Crusades, her a trip to Zagreb 1965, churches repainted, a long life.

Aug 22

The magic hour light poured on Mom, as we talked about her aunt from Nacogdoches Tx. and their childhood together, and Cary Grant on the run from the law in North by Northwest... "I've got a job, a mother, two ex-wives,and bar tenders who are dependent on me. I don't want to let them down by getting killed," says Cary Grant. Sometimes we all find ourselves lost in it all.

Aug 21

It started raining as I left at 5: 20. More rain as I crossed the bridge, even more rain, as I zipped down to singsing, a low down karaoke joint on ave a. Everyone strolled along, comfortable in the rain, others dashing in to avoid the downpour. Groups of two or three joined to help us sing, Love yourself, surrender, I write the songs, Dancing on my own,

Native New Yorkers, Friends in Low Places, Suspicious Minds, and one enterprising singer sang...

Native New Yorker

Song by Odyssey ‧ 1977

"Runnin' pretty, New York City girl (twenty-five, thirty-five)

Hello, baby, New York City girl

You grew up ridin' the subways, running with people

Up in Harlem, down on Broadway

You're no tramp, but you're no lady, talkin' that street talk

You're the heart and soul of New York City

And love, love is just a passing word

It's the thought you had in a taxi cab that got left on the curb

When he dropped you off at East 83rd

Oh, oh, oh (oh, oh, oh)

You're a native New Yorker

You should know the score by now (you should know by now)

You're a native New Yorker

Music plays, everyone's dancin' closer and closer

Makin' friends and findin' lovers

There you are lost in the shadows, searchin' for someone (searchin' for someone)

To set you free from New York City

And, whoa, where did all those yesterdays go

When you still believed love could really be like a Broadway show

You were the star, when did it close?

Oh, oh, oh (oh, oh, oh)

You're a native New Yorker

No one opens the door

For a native New Yorker

Where did all those yesterdays go

When you still believed love could really be like a Broadway show

You're the star

You're a native New Yorker

You should know the score by now

You're a native New Yorker

You're a native New Yorker..."

Still pouring when I rode home a few hours later.

Aug 20

"Barrett Shepard is a longtime member of the Luddite Club." "Shepard uses the phone solely to organize meetings with friends. Shepard recalled, with admiration, the stories passed down by parents about their teenage years, when they met friends by chance on the street." https://www.businessinsider.com/gen-z-anti-tech-luddite...

Aug 20

From Bijans to Village Works, catching up with Mark, whose new book just landed. Congrats on this timely work. "In Revolutionary Ink, Mark J. Noonan explores the careers of New York printers whose presses disseminated Enlightenment ideals that fueled the American Revolution and framed the political debates of the early republic. Long overshadowed by the celebrated authors whose works they produced, printers William Bradford, John Peter Zenger, James Parker, Thomas Greenleaf and others helmed presses that provoked civic engagement, cultivated an appreciation for the arts and sciences, and defended press liberty... Throughout the narrative, Noonan addresses the discrepancy between revolutionary rhetoric and practice, and argues that to grasp New York's early print history is to confront the paradox of the Anglo-American Enlightenment: its profound advancements alongside the denial of universal human rights."

August 18th

There are people you run into for years and years, demos, arrests, protests against unjust policies, wars, war profiteers, Granny Peace Brigade Rebel friends, Occupying Wall Street, rise and resisting, speaking to history, on the right side. RiP Joan Pleune, pictured here at Zuccotti Park October 14, 2011 with beloved resisters Laurie, Anne S, and Jenny Heinz.

As Kate wrote in her Observations of an Activist:

“There are as many approaches to spending time in a jail cell after being arrested for civil disobedience as there are people, but there are some common patterns. There are high-energy activists who keep chanting and even stomping even in the holding cells, not my favorite because the vibrations and sound reverberate through the whole cellblock. There are antsy activists who stay in motion, even some who climb the bars. There are new activist who might be anxious, hovering close to more experienced folks asking a lot of questions. Then there are high drama activists, who spend the whole time going on about their medical needs and what might happen if we are held long enough that they miss a medication. At the extreme end of this are those that wind up getting carted off to the ER, because that is the only way to get access to medication while in police custody, unless you somehow smuggle it in, which I have also seen. Winding up in the ER means both spending hours handcuffed to a bed or chair, but also delays the processing of your case. Raising a ruckus about a medical situation is one thing if someone is injured during the action or the arrest, or has a sudden medical crisis, but as a person with chronic medical conditions, I think you have to make a decision -either you can’t take a bust, which is a valid choice – or you decide to do it and accept that you are going to go without meds, etc and just push through it.

Personally, I prefer people who are calm and sit quietly or share stories in a holding cell. This made Joan Pleune one of my favorite people to get arrested with. She was a no-drama, solid solidarity presence at any action. During the many DC battles during the first Trump administration (over the ACA, Kavanaugh, the Tax Bill etc), activists from around the country would converge at a church to get prepped for that day’s action. The mass of people would often be divided into smaller groups with specific goals and whenever I spotted Joan’s grey curls amid the crowd, I would make a beeline for her so that we would be in the same arrest group. Born in 1939, Joan was 22 years old and a student at UC Berkley when she took part in the historic Freedom Rides in June of 1961. She was arrested in Jackson, Mississippi and was still getting arrested in her senior years as part of the Raging Grannies. After an action at Aetna, our group was mostly offered ACDs but I was not. Joan turned hers down to stay in solidarity with me, a level of commitment to solidarity that is not common. Sitting in various cells, Joan told me stories of actions from the past, but also practical tips like getting her daughter, a doctor, to prescribe Lomotil so that she could avoid needing to poop in jail. I worried when she told me she was hospitalized with COVID, but she came through that and kept on fighting, but I hadn’t seen her recently when word came that she was gone on August 18th. I hope I can live my life like hers, still fighting for justice until the end.”

August 18

"Protests outside NYC offices of Palantir, Google denounce data centers, facial recognition tech...The events were part of weeklong anti-Big Tech demonstrations across the US." Action by Rise and Resist pic by @KenSchles https://www.techbrew.com/.../dump-big-tech-protests...

August 18th

"Dry your eyes out baby, it's out of character" says Cary Grant to Ingrid Bergman in the film Notorious (1946), directed by Alfred Hitchcock.Claude Rains comes to the rescue. You forget they're both in Casablanca and Notorious. She wears a new hat in every scene. Claude's mother knows his marriage to Bergman is a sham. Does Ingrid? Bergman's character, Alicia Huberman, says, "Waving the flag with one hand and picking pockets with the other, that's your 'patriotism'".

Still Claude falls for her. "You are protected by the enormity of your stupidity" says his mother, when Claude confesses Ingrid is an agent. Cary to the rescue. Claude has to slink back to the Nazis. Loyalties divided. The cold war raging in Rio. Movie night in Brooklyn

August 17

We made our way to Village Works, then back out to Brooklyn, past Barbes,where i ran into an old friend, and then out to have coffee with Savitri, talking about our movements, off to Ridgewood, to meet a Berlin buddy at Mister Sunday August 16: Eamon Harkin and Justin Carter. A festive vibe, bodies, lights, colors, music, vibrations, some of the people from Book Club Radio, the week before, were there, all of us dancing in the mist and rain, riding back home to sleep, to feel

a part of everything into the day.

August 16th

Early Saturday, out to Euroasia Cafe, a cozy, long-standing Brighton Beach neighborhood staples. Our Ukrainian waitress told us about her kid, who she brought from Ukraine. At the beach, waves poured, warm waters, gorgeous people out and about, all of ny. A young woman played Russian songs on the beach. We had a few beers looking at the world, people biking by, crisp light on the boardwalk on a Saturday.

August 14th

Democracy Now reports:

Activists have set up a protest camp in the Arizona border town of Lochiel to prevent the destruction of a grove of ancient cottonwood trees. Federal contractors plan to destroy the grove to build a wall at the U.S.-Mexico border.

August 15

Christine Norton posted

“My heart is BREAKING watching the videos of Trump and Abbott's illegal destruction of Big Bend National Park. Watching bulldozers plow through sacred and fragile land near Santa Elena Canyon is making me heartsick. Feeling sort of Monkey Wrench Gang about the whole thing.”

August 15th

Some days, I wake from long dreams, struggles in lost worlds long gone, obscured from memory, only slowly recalling the day before, a stroll through Bed Stuy, full of murals and life, down Canal Street, thinking about the Beasties, out to Moms where she tells me about a Persian miniatures and we talk about her collection of objects that her parents brought back from Turkey, and we watch Ninotchka, the 1939 American romantic comedy film directed by Ernst Lubitsch and starring Greta Garbo and Melvyn Douglas. "Garbo Laughs!", said the marketing for the film following a stern, no-nonsense Soviet envoy sent to Paris to sell seized jewels, only to fall for a charming count. "Your appearance is not distasteful...." she says to him, as they explore Paris. "There is nothing sweeter than sharing a secret with an enemy..." he tells her. "No one can be so happy without being punished," she replied. We giggle away, laughing into sleep.

August 14th

Lovely Donald and his books of poetry, Proust, Rainer Maria Rilke, Keats, art books, novels, old ny books, a magic apartment and the gorgeous church where he sings. We talked about the Summer of Ludd and his world.. Pieces of a life. Back to Mom, back to the garden, back to Rilke:

"I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone."

August 11th

Our work has always been about preserving Elizabeth Street Garden while addressing the need for low-income housing within our community.

For years we’ve maintained that the need for public community greenspace and affordable housing can be fulfilled without any loss to the community.

This is the kind of resolution all New Yorkers deserve.

Stay tuned for our full statement

August 12

Rise & Resist climate group at 15th and 8th Ave Google to remind their workers, with their fancy bags, and outfits, "Google turn off your AI, Data centers make us fry"

"Google don't be evil, don't cause climate upheaval"

"AI is not settled fate, take a pause, we can wait"

Finally we sang an ai tune to the old crowd pleaser "Old Mcdonald's farm":

"Google thinks we are all sheep, AI AI No!

It wants to put our brains asleep

AI AI No!

Save water here,

Save water there

Save our climate everywhere

Google cool the planet now

AI AI No!"

Says Rise and Resist: "Al is causing great harm —eliminating jobs, spreading disinformation, and accelerating irreversible climate change....demand that Big Tech regulate AI and stop racing headlong to a bleak future. Get the word out ..."

Aug 11

Was chatting with David G about his latest academic job in Washington DC, looking for an old mix tape, our family living in a farm in Africa, when a group of donkeys came inside to greet us, but the bathroom was flooded, all the kids had their partners over for the weekend, still couldn't find that tape, not sure it was fromGeorge Gimmark, or about the Beastie Boys, but the alarm finally rang and I ran to feed the cat and make some coffee before yoga... good things followed by bad followed by good followed by bad... global justice to 9/11 war on terror followed by occupy movements followed by Trump followed by Black Lives Matter and Summer of Heat followed by Trump 2.0

Aug 10th

I'm sure there are lots of poems out about Cats and ghosts, cats named Shannon in Berlin, who had the blues after Aisle and Spider died, with me in a cab on the way to Reykjavik, or on the couch in Brooklyn with Nico or Dodi or Bear, keeping us company, exploring the back yard, on an empty corner between Dauphine and Desire, in the back yard in the snow, with the birds, with Mom in Princeton, looking at us, no longer eating, between this life and that, perusing Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, or the impossible Cats, Ray's cat who lived with Ray and the fly, before the fly died, not quite sure about Ghost Cat by Margaret Atwood about a cat with dementia, yea, i'm sure there are lots of poems about cats and ghosts

Aug 10

Strange journey into club land. Movies about Ghosts, Out to Bushwick at midnite, for Book Club Radio, a goth party, with any number of faaaabulous people, shaking and grooving, a garden outside, the makings of a castle inside, wonderful, extremely silly outfits, no cell phones, no pics, people shaking, bumping and grinding, each dj better, people ever more cute as it got later. Unlike Berlin, the party ended at 4 am, odd. We made our way home, to sleep, to dream, rumbles inside, outside, alive, dead, shaking, unsettled, walking into the afternoon, into the sunlight further into the dream. An old song from the night before, samples over a techno beat, reverberates ...

A Forest

by The Cure ‧ 1980

Come closer and see

See into the trees

Find the girl

While you can

Come closer and see

See into the dark

Just follow your eyes

I hear her voice

Calling my name

The sound is deep

In the dark

I hear her voice

And start to run

Into the trees

Suddenly I stop

But I know it's too late

I'm lost in a forest

All alone

The girl was never there

It's always the same

I'm running towards nothing

Again and again and again and again

Aug 8th

World Naked Bike Ride on the cover of the ny times. Wow. More ass, less gas!!!

August 8th

A homeless Brooklyn vagabond, Shannon came along two decades ago, joining us to and from California, two youngsters with us for a year away, Aisla in the fold, back to Brooklyn, up to Cape Cod for summers, back home, to Garrison. Cats don't jump, said Caroline, standing on the balcony. Off the second floor balcony, Shannon flew, through the air, to the ground. Through the pandemic, Shannon watched those youngsters grow up, say goodbye, one to California, joining the other with Spider the cat in Berlin. The spider would not last the year. But Shannon did, eluding the Sword of Democles, which grasped at her besties Spider and Aisle, joining me on the crazy flight to Raikevik from Berlin. Back to Brooklyn, and then on the couch at Mom's in Princeton. The two hung out, Shannon greeting us each morning for the next three years, running through the back yard, howling, snuggling on the couch, always a friend, greeting the two youngsters, now adults when they dropped by from Boston and Los Angeles. RiP Shannon, thanks for comforting three generations of Shepards, for being our friend. RiP Shannon.

August 7

From DC to Tirana, New York to the world, the activists still surprise me. Back in NYC, thinking about our journey through the Flamingo Protests of Albania. https://benjaminheimshepard.blogspot.com/.../flamingos...

Aug 6th

You ever get the feeling the replicants are taking over? I've seen 2001 and Blade Runner. AI fans the flames of the climate crisis. Tell Google no more unregulated AI! Great action Rise and Resist. Amazing pics as always Ken Schles Thanks for being there.

Here's the truth about ai. Inevitable is a big lie, we chanted outside the Google Data center at 8th and 15th Streets. Members of Rise and Resist carried, not an AI Fans. Voice of Gowanus sewed the Department of Environmental Conservation. It started drizzling on the way to meet Gene at Clockwork, talking about kids and romance, friendship and Bahia Salvador in Brazil. The buddies all converged at the Magician, a whirling conversation that has been going on for a long long time. Ahh New York...

Aug 5th

Some days, our little village pops, friends from the East Village to West, conversations at the Library about

Sing Unburied Sing, Jazmin Ward, about direct action at Julius' in the West Village, where we were discussing all things Ann Northrop, an homage to her three decades at the helm at Gay USA with Andy Humm. "It's a lot of fun to get arrested with a hundred of your best friends," says Ann Northrop, auctioning off a pic of herself taking a bust in 1997 when the Irish parade kept out queer people. They even had t-shirts of the bust, Ann with a smile, above the words "exactly." Ann spoke, the room silent for the best facilitator, act up's long-time north star, activists from all over the city pouring into the old bar. I got to sit chatting with Kate and Lisa and Ray and Jay and the one and only Raldolfe Wicker, still at it, still hilarious and irreverent. Before Ann's party, I stopped by Penny Arcade's birthday. No room to chat with the legend, a line of fans queuing up to speak with the legend. Says Penny: "As I grow older, the reality sinks in that time is promised to no one. So my great joy is to share my time with the people I love from every walk of my life. Consider yourself invited to my Spirit of '76 birthday party at Pangea Tuesday August 4th 2026 - 6pm to 9pm no performances, No music, just CONVERSATIONS and INTERACTIONS….very 1976!Please no flowers or candles…I love presents but don't feel you must.. xoxoPenny..." Thank you Penny. Thank you Ann. Thank you Randolfe. Village legends now and forever!!

Aug 4th

The Barbes crew made a detour to CMon Everybody, for some deep Brooklyn queer fare, August 3, "The Jelly: A Tribute To Fallen Legends" featuring J. Hoard, Vera Star, and The Jelly House Band." Songs of Prince and Fleetwood Mac, Christie McVie, David Bowie, Starman, each cover more resonant, songs of our life:

"For you, there'll be no more crying

For you, the sun will be shining

Because I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right..."

Aug 3

Strange fates on a Sunday. After bagels with Al, we rode to the city, for bands. Seeing friends, a stumble on the sidewalk, first day back after a summer of archaeology, alluding snakes in the woods. Books and ideas, art and poems, cups of coffee and love at Village Works on a Sunday.

Aug 2

Saturday in motion. Irwin and I met in the West Village and talked about Lawrence Durell, the questions were many, love and death and Mythos bear. Ray and I walked to the theater for the new city, where JC was performing. And Colin met me at Tompkins, where the bands were playing, the sounds sufficiently horrible, the poetry pretty good, musings on catastrophe, inanimate sex, punk, incest, Food not bombs whose park our park says Chris Flash, tells a story about a riot over curfew in the park, Food not Bombs, delivers free food and a principle that a society that can afford bombs but can't feed its people is fundamentally sick, a man walks up to Colin, telling him its a memorial for John the Commie, what kind of a Communist, I ask, my mind still on Enver Hoxha, and his district cruel ideology. Maybe a Tankee says Colin, musing about the lefties and their strange dreams, Aug 5th is the riot anniversary, says Chris, That's like July 4 1776, says Colin. We talk about Dana in jail. And Bear arrives, back from Alabama, the sounds of the ramones and lost civilizations dancing in their head. And the dream continues into the night.

Aug 1

Mom and I caught up on things. The summer is for trees, she told me as we drove back from Bowman's Hill Wildflower Preserve in New Hope, lost in the the mystery of it all, the microscopic forest, drinking wine on the patio, talking with Shannon, looking at the postcards from our trip, watching Ken Clark's dated and wonderful stories of the history of consciousness.

July 31

Ran into Al and C on the way to Yuan is Here lunch, our new g favorite restaurant in the hood. Mom and I watched Grace Kelly save the day in Rear Window, and Ingrid Bergman get into even more trouble in Notorious. "The daughter of a convicted German spy is asked by American agents to gather information on a ring of German scientists in South America. How far will she have to go to ingratiate herself with them?"

July

The Knicks win their first championship in decades. The whole world cheers.

July7th/ 8t

The Knicks lost game four when Trump showed up to watch. They hadn't lost in six weeks. Trump ruined the vibe. Same thing for USA soccer. Sigh.

The sound of raindrops during morning yoga. Shannon walked through the yard. For a second there was hope before the bad omens descended upon the US, Trump ruined the vibe Mom laughed about it all. Summer moments. That Summer feeling

Hanging with Mom, reading, editing all afternoon, feeling like Egypt was robbed, getting ready to go. Protests in Albania. Messages from the streets... the world in motion.

July 6th

I think the Mexico England match in Mexico City was one of the best I've ever seen. The ghost of the Mano del Dia of 1986 finally vanquished. Amazing teams, both of them. I was surprised Brazil wilted. But Norway was great. All over New York, every team has a home team bar. Spanish places are open early for the big match today. Empty nest again, we snuck out to Big Tiny. Hung out with friends.

July 4th

Walking the streets of Brooklyn, people strewn about, some looking for food, others jumping rope, jumping in the fire hydrants spewing water. Happy July 4th everyone. I remember the post Viet Nam vibe of 1976 at the Bicentennial. It feels a little less certain fifty years later.

Our to see the ships.

City of Ships

Walt Whitman

1819 –92

City of ships!

(O the black ships! O the fierce ships!

O the beautiful sharp-bow'd steam-ships and sail-ships!)

City of the world! (for all races are here,

All the lands of the earth make contributions here;)

City of the sea! city of hurried and glittering tides!

City whose gleeful tides continually rush or recede, whirling in and out with eddies and foam!

City of wharves and stores—city of tall facades of marble and iron!

Proud and passionate city—mettlesome, mad, extravagant city!

Spring up O city—not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself, warlike!

Fear not—submit to no models but your own O city!

Behold me—incarnate me as I have incarnated you!

Greeting Mom and Will

Fourth of July with Mom and Will, recalling the Bicentennial with my brothers and her in 1976. And you're still here, all these years later. To what do you credit your resilience and longevity, I asked. Well, it beats the alternatives, she laughed. On we talked about sports. She recalled 'wilt the stilt' Chamberlain playing Bill Russell and the Celtics. And we watched France defeat Paraguay. Could we all be a little less mean, a little less cruel? I hope so. We talked about what happened. It's not easy to know. Our Revolutionary promise is still unfulfilled. Time blurs. Snapshots and memories and a long conversation.

July 3

The window offers a glimpse of the larger world, said Mom, thinking about the mysteries that are a part of everything. The kids together and then apart, off to LA, to the land of Tomata du Plenty and the MutMuz Gallery, a group bike ride through the city, no one really sure where it is taking us. Or are we taking it into everything and nothing at once. Do we breathe or are breathing? Mom was full of yins and yangs, ever moving, watching Portugal and Croatia, off sides, whats off sides? Whose side. It's hard to let go or so say goodbye. Shannon out on a stroll through the magic hour. We all need our adventures.

July 1

The kids ran out to the city. We picked up burgers. And snacks. Invited the crew. They arrived at 640. Saw their buddies' bikes outside. Knew something was afoul. Surprise. But we still had fun. Sharing a moment together, with old brazilian jiu jitsu

buddies, Aunt Caroline, a laugh, a giggle, a little pinata, glad to be alive together, friends from Berlin, Brooklyn, across years and years together, a smile, into the evening. Still a laugh.

June 30

The best part of the drag march is running into my favorite people, Savitri, AC, Brian, Ryan, Erik who took this pic, Diane Green Lent who took that... and sharing a moment together, sharing a smile.

JUne 30

And so it goes, the music changes, the world. When you arrived two decades ago, Italy was on its way to its fourth World Cup win. These last few years, it hasn't even qualified. 'I don't listen to acoustic music anymore,' you told me today. For a while there it was all we listened to. Yet we still have the road, between then and now, between now and eternal. The road goes on forever. So do our stories, two decades of stories, from New York to Long Beach, San Francisco to Garrison, Brooklyn to Berlin, Boston to Tübingen, through a cemetery where we rode, looking for Nico's grave, looking for the forever, a music festival here, a Quaker Service here, a greetings from the cats, a perfect cup of coffee on Twin Peaks there, a trip up state, where we walked through the woods, into the next unknown, you with your IWW patch, me with my Ramones tshirt. One big union, a Warriors bike ride from the South Bronx to Coney Island, into the Summer, into the next road trip.

June 30

Happy Fourth of July. I'll take my wins when I get 'em. "You can go to live in France, but you cannot become a Frenchman..." said Reagan. "But anyone, from any corner of the Earth, can come to live in America and become an American." Still true. A win for decency.

Paraguay wins. All of the Lower East Side Roars!!! Germany out.

Stickers is off, jumping a freight train to Canada. They say Damian is beautiful. And see you in September. Alley was on the move, looking about, books coming and going. The summer people out on the street. Everyone carries some pain. Some memories, ever fading, ever with us, reminding us. Other lives, older loves, reminders

June 29

Woke up and grabbed the LA kid, in town for the week. For a second we were all together. Had a bagel with Al. Not to be a downer, but it's only going to get worse, said Al. Talked about Lizzie Borden and Lizzie Borden and trecked out for the afternoon matinee show, flea market at Cinco de Mayo on 206 French St, a popular Mexican restaurant and a beloved anchor for the local DIY, punk, and hardcore music scenes in New Brunswick, NJ. 1pm Matinee with Love and Compassion, on the road with both kids, catching up with my brother for a bit. Mom, the crew, a summer weekend in time. A few quiet moments... reflecting on a huge pride weekend.