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So many sides

6/19/2019

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710

Personal

So Many Sides

There are so many sides to me that I've observed lately.  One minute I think one way and another minute I think another.  My mind goes from the macro scale to the micro scale in a blink of an eye.  It goes from being rationale to irrational, from balanced to shaky, from philosophical to primitive, from transcendental to petty.  All I can say is I'm a bunch of these pieces, held together in this body and spirit but barely.  I would burst open if this glue didn't hold it all together.

Sometimes it's like being a teacher in a classroom, with unruly students and good ones, and everything inbetween and more. I'm both the teacher and the students.

I suppose the good is that's this all  humbles the spirit, although I wish it was in an easier way.
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July 15th, 2017

7/15/2017

2 Comments

 
593.  Past

Personal

A sweet sorrow
Picture
A sweet sorrow

Sitting somewhere on a bench
surrounded by a rare stillness
thoughts drifting through people, places, and things
eventually settling on one,
where there was a pull on the heart,
and an old resentment was lifted,
replaced by an acceptance,
a patient understanding,
even a love,
and there was sorrow
because what was could not be undone,
and there was sweetness
because the anger was no more.
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Rotten core

4/23/2017

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578.

Personal


Rotten core
  

There is an
underlying core
that is rotten
and I thought
I escaped it
but here it is again
staring me
right in the face.




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Whole

12/26/2016

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560.

Personal

Personal   

Whole   

I was half trained in art
and am half way spiritually
and all I do has a half life.

To complete all these halves
I have to jump
into a whole new direction.
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As it is

12/11/2016

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554.  Past

Personal

As it is

So many things that bother me
so many unresolved issues
and yet I can do nothing
to change anything
but accept all
as it is.
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A little dance done in private

11/26/2016

3 Comments

 
549.  Past

Personal

A little dance done in private
Picture
3 Comments

Trip to New York (June 2016, Part 2)

9/6/2016

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522.

Personal

Trip to New York (June 2016, Part 2)

I met Carole at a Chinese place beneath her building and we enjoyed their dumplings and she told me she had some back issues and also about the good news of her insurance.  I don't sketch enough but I did a quick sketch of her and she wanted to me to sign it, claiming it will be of value some day.  Oh, the ego likes hearing such things.  She still has her younger lover and her teacher's pension and her irritating non caring brother and friends that acted strange and I listened and contributed and went home.  I hadn't called dad and he sounded worried once I called.

Next on the activity list was the class reunion.  There were to be three events, Friday a dinner with our class and the faculty members, Saturday meeting at the school and listening to classmate James Gadsden give a talk and be honored, for he had become a diplomat to Iceland and had a Harvard type of career.  Later there was to be dinner at an Italian restaurant.   Sunday Terry who for a time was a film critic, was to have us out for brunch at his Park Slope apartment.  I chose one out of three events, to attend  the Saturday event.

Immediately upon entering the school I ran into Jodie, wife of Jimmy Tarlau. Jimmy was the former president of our class in high school, who possessed intelligence and organizational skills that he used to coordinate the extra activities around the reunion. He had visited me once in Florida where his in laws had a place nearby.  Eventually they sold it.  Too hard to go back and forth I suppose.  Here was an interesting link.  Jodie and her brother also grew up in Stuyvesant Town/Peter Cooper, which was snubbed in this school.  It was a little too common, too GI bill and too overly institutional.  Understood.  She also went to the high school we did which was small, super progressive, had a certain political agenda  merged with a competitive preparatory school edge.  Jodie had been in both worlds as I had and we could share notes, although she adapted better than I.  Jimmy was a upper West side child, intellectual, and had been in the school longer than I and had cemented relationships accordingly and  that was hard to break into.

Anyhow, at the school James Gadsden was speaking and I could hardly hear him.  It was in a side room.  He used to be a tall black man but had shrunk a little.  He was a scholarship student from the south and had slept in my parents apartment a few times.   For me the school was an alternative to tough local schools, yeshiva, and maybe the Quaker school Friends.     For others, going there was a political statement.   Later, when having dinner, I touched James on the shoulder and he said he just had surgery on that shoulder so I should be careful.  I joked  and said too much writing and tension in the wrist from too many degrees.  At dinner, with another classmate Paula listening, the one comment he said to me was how beautiful he thought my sister was, with long black hair and fine manners and how nicely spoken she was.  While I was always more photogenic and received some serious jealousy for that, Gail had Mona Lisa classical looks. I later told Gail his comment and how surrealistic it seemed.  Of all the things he could say to me this is what came out.  I'm sure all his years of academia and being a diplomat forced him into certain roles.  When free of these boxes what blurted out were his basic primal feelings and reactions without layers.  Go James.   I told him it was very nice to see him and it was.

It was a small school and not many showed up, partly because of distance, partly circumstance, life and last minute obligations.  The nice thing about being older and going to one of these reunions is that you are able to ask questions that bother you and fill in the little pieces of puzzles that you've always wondered about.  Why did Joe leave and go to Stuyvesant HS?  (Some peope had switched schools but  came out of some loyalty to the school, and out of respect for Jimmy's effort. Jimmy is who I am referring to, not to be confused with James the diplomat.)  Why did John leave as he played guitar, was a precocious writer and fit the Little Red Elisabeth Irwin image?  Turns out his father, a practical dentist, sensed it would turn into a bottle neck.  Not sure what that implied but somehow it made some sense and might have been prophetic.  Anyhow, John pursued an academic career.  How and why did Marvin become a camera man after being in Africa in his college junior year? He seemed ambitious now and wanted to make films after many years, according to him,  of just having a good time.  More men than women showed up.  Maggie, my ex wife,  had an interesting reason.  She said it's harder for women to appear because they are judged more harshly on looks, marital status and so on.  Men can just be men, and if they have money they can look like anything.  Some truth in this.

Paula and Andrea seemed nice.  Paula had been a red diaper baby and Andrea pursued art in NYC.   The latter didn't come to dinner.  Paula looked well and at the 18th  reunion had commented she admired how Jimmy and Jodie got together from same high school.  I've observed in my life that many second marriages happen between ex classmates from their early years.  You know from whence they came.  She was always a  bright lady and I wished I was less preoccupied so I could  inquire more about her life. (Part 2 ended)
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Knee

7/22/2016

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505.  Past

Personal

Knee
Picture
Knee

Trying to get some work done after knee injury.  Every movement involves pain.  The implications are fierce.  It could bring me to a halt.  I need a miracle.
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Pressure

6/28/2016

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494.


Personal

Pressure

Pressure existed from the start
so I can't develop slowly
nor take my time.

Do I make pressure moves til' the end
or take the time
to take the time?

Diving forward can miss the mark
but so is the illusion
there is a choice.





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Drag

12/4/2015

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405.  Past


Personal

Drag

On a Sunday morning in a half dream state realized a truth about myself.  There is a ‘drag’ element in my life. By drag I mean things go on too long, become saturated, and lose their vitality.  My family’s dramas drag out; same with my relating to my sister. My art can drag. There is a sludge like type of feeling in all I do. It's not always fresh.  I have to hold on too long.

In high school, which I wasn’t crazy about, I remember staying after in school too long.  Others finished their school business and then moved on.  In art school the same thing.  If anything, I disliked these institutions more than others, but needed for some reason to squeeze out of them what I could. 

I think this stemmed from my age old weakness, lack of home base.  Lacking the security from a home environment, I clung onto what was offered me, even though most of what offered me further violated my make-up. They didn't nourish, but rather accentuated my deficiencies. So it was a double punishment.  As a cat that is slapped returns to the slapper, I returned to these abusers.  At least I knew what to expect.  If you stayed close to your enemy there might be less damage inflicted. Of course in a strange way maybe there was some nobility in this.  I was trying to make a negative work.  This was another way of looking at it.

But this flaw damaged my talents and thinking, for it weighed down the natural discovery process with other needs, making what should be wonderment too ponderous.
It wasn't balanced.  One shouldn't hang on for dear life to that which is not out for your good.

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    Steven B. Nussdorf records his lifelong search to find meaning outside of the normal channels.  He  uses writing, poetry, and drawing to document this effort.

    Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.

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