Stacy Horn

I don’t know where they are coming in from, and I have to decide what to try next. I also learned yesterday that my building is on a block that has been designated a “rat resevoir“!! Mother of God. Feeling very discouraged.

A pigeon huddling against the cold in my window. Above where the cats like to curl up.

I passed by an entrance to what must be a nightclub. Dancing was always one of my favorite things to do, but my clubbing days were so brief. First, I went into rehab and had to stay away from clubs for a while. Within a few months after getting out I was in grad school with little free time. Then, straight from grad school I started my own business and had ZERO free time for years. That was that for dancing!

I danced at the last Loser’s Lounge a week or so ago, and for the first 30 seconds I couldn’t quite figure out how to move, it had been that long. Thank God my body started to remember.

I long to be able to dance hip hop. It’s my favorite dance style to watch, and I even took a couple of hip hop dancing classes a few years ago. I just wanted to be able to do it a little. Just a little. I can’t tell you how bad I was. It was like this type of dancing was no where in me. I could not summon it.

I just googled it. This place is the Electric Room.

My choir is doing a piece by Samuel Barber this spring, Prayers of Kierkegaard, and I just love this beautiful, haunting music. Am I the last to know about Barber? His music is gorgeous. I’ve been exploring his other works, and I’m going to listen to his operas next. Except I can’t remember which one a friend was raving to me about. I think it was Vanessa.

I will also be exploring Pandora for the first time, while I’m at it!

Some graffiti I liked, I think I was on 14th Street. I love how there are layers and layers of it.

My book about Blackwell’s Island is the most fact-heavy book I’ve ever written, and I feel completely intimidated by the fact checking job in front of me. I’ve learned over the years that no matter how careful you are, mistakes abound, and you have to check every single last fact, every word of a quote, every thing you assert. It’s a big job. Oh Jesus, I’m freaking out just thinking about it. Excuse me while I faint, be right back …

It’s important to get it right. Even though plenty of people (historians) are aware of Blackwell’s Island and what went on there, this is still largely an untold story, and even for historians, the stories I’ve uncovered and have chosen to tell are new. I also did the math, which I will triple check, and discovered some surprising and new crime stats. I want to check all those figures again, because I think some people are going to question them.

A dog walker and his charges on 14th Street.

Susan Brownmiller has a new book which is coming out on March 31: My City Highrise Garden. Susan is a friend who lives in a pretty fabulous apartment not far from me. It’s the envy of everyone who has visited. From the Library Journal: “In this charming collection of essays, feminist journalist, activist, and author Brownmiller writes with passion, humor, and complete candidness about 35 years of gardening on the 20th-floor terrace of her Greenwich Village apartment … Memoir lovers and gardeners alike will enjoy these adventures in urban gardening.”

I’m a new fan of gardening books, and I love the idea of reading about a garden so close to me. Susan is probably most known for her book Against Our Will: Men, Women, and Rape. But her other books include, Seeing Vietnam, In Our Time: Memoir of a Revolution, and Waverly Place.

A film shoot I passed by on 11th Street last night, on my way to choir practice.