Category: Uncategorized

Pretty! Thank you, Chris.

I’m going out to the end of the island today to interview people for the Duke Parapsychology Lab book. I can’t believe no one has written this book and I get to do it. There is such a treasure trove of stories. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been going through all the boxes of materials I brought back from Duke, listing the stories, and picking the best. The best = tells the story of what went on inside that lab, and is interesting or weird or sad.

At the same time I’m looking for films and tapes and people who knew the people I’m writing about it, so I can describe them accurately.

I’m bringing a camera and a scanner, and hopefully will have good pictures to post when I get back.

The other night, on the way to choir, I noticed some dead flowers stuck in the grating and on the stoop, next door to where I buy bread and juice on Hudson Street. One of the cards read “To Jane Jacobs – From Here She Changed the World.”

Jane Jacobs died on April 25th. I think it’s safe to say she saved the city I love. (See her book, The Death and Life of Great American Cities.) It’s interesting to think she once lived in this building. When I first moved to this neighborhood it was little iffy this far west. The nearest AA meeting used to be filled with longshoreman who would curse at you if you were the least bit … non-longshoreman-y. (Meaning show any emotion whatsoever.) And since she must have lived here before I got here, the neighborhood had to have been even tougher.

Oh God, now Bleeker Street over here looks like Rodeo Drive. The stories I could tell of the things I’ve seen and what it used to be like. The most bizarre sight was when I first moved over here in 1981. There used to be warehouses on the piers over on the Hudson River. I don’t know why, but me and a couple of friends decided it would a good idea to go into one, at NIGHT. (Yes, we were idiots.)

We walked about mid-way through, hearing a noise I just couldn’t identify. It was night, and there weren’t any lights, so it wasn’t until the halfway point that my eyes adjusted and I could see around me. Then I saw the source of the noise. Up and down the entire length of both sides of the warehouse, as far as the eye could see, naked butts going up and down. What I was hearing was the sound of several hundred couples having sex.

Anyway, I loved that people remembered her, and that she used to live in this building and left her flowers and thanked her for our city. (New Yorkers are great. And also out of their fucking minds — see my previous story.)

Goodbye Jane. Thank you from me.

… and I can’t move. I take video snapshots. Here’s a rare Buddy shot.

Finney and me spot something on the fire escape. What’s that??

Nothing worth bothering about. Let’s nap.

Better yet. Let’s clean ourselves. At this point it became a quest to get an action shot of his tongue.

Damnit.

DAMNIT, DAMNIT. (Nice Speed Racer action thing going on with his ears, though.)

Okay, THERE. Thank God. There’s his tongue. Yes, that was a worthwhile quest.

Nothing makes an apartment feel fresher and Spring-cleanier than clean windows. It’s such a mood enhancer. You probably can’t appreciate the true beauty of them from web pictures.

See how clear the building across the street is??

And my view of … well, bricks? You can really see those bricks!

When I was down at Duke reading all those letters–thousands and thousands and thousands of letters–I came to like certain people just because their letters made me laugh, or think, whatever. One of the people I came to like was an Irish medium named Eileen Garrett. I decided she had to be part of the book.

First, she arranged for crucial financing for the Parapsychology Lab. She was funny and compassionate. She was also this amazingly entrepreneurial renaissance-type woman. She knew how to get money, she started a publishing business, a magazine, a foundation. She took care of people. Just like Rhine really, but she had a completely different style. She is the perfect counterpoint to J. B. Rhine. They made a very interesting team, although I wonder if either of them would have called themselves a team.

I’m going out to Greenpoint to talk to Eileen Garrett’s daughter and granddaughter next week. I cannot wait. Also, I haven’t been out to Greenpoint since the 70’s. Ohmygod, I just realized. I have pictures — from when there was nothing out there except an abandoned, decaying hotel. I should find them and scan them. Meanwhile, here is Eileen.