Stacy Horn

This guy isn’t one of them, apparently. When I left Grace Church after choir practice a protest was making its way up Broadway. The protestors were peaceful, and it looked like the focus was Trayvon Martin, but there was also a prominent sign calling for Ray Kelly (the NYPD Police Commissioner) to resign and others about police brutality.

I followed them to Union Square and stood off to the side watching and taking pictures. The cop in this picture told me I had to move on. So I started to around look for another place to go and he shouted, “Join them, leave, or cuffs, your choice!” I looked at him in shock. I couldn’t believe how quickly he started yelling at me. I was just standing there quietly and I was actually trying to comply, but there was a mass of cops behind me, and a mass of protestors in front of me, and it wasn’t immediately clear to me where he expected me to go. When I looked at him he instantly and weirdly escalated the situation. I forget how he worded it, something along the lines of, “Don’t even start with me missy, I’ll cuff you.”

He’s talking like this to a middle aged choir lady standing quietly on the sidelines. It was just so bizarre and unnecessary. I always suspect people like this must have been picked on in the playground when they were children. They then spend the rest of their lives trying to prove that no one can ever pick on them again.

So to the cop in the picture: I don’t know if you were just having a bad day, or recently lost someone close to you, or maybe someone was a jerk to you at this protest, but if this is any indication of the way you normally behave, you’ve been in the job too long. It’s time to retire. You didn’t act like a cop, you acted like a thug, and today you were an embarrassment to the badge.

Worse, your behavior makes it harder for decent cops to do their job. It creates an adversarial relationship between the police and the citizens of New York, which isn’t useful in any situation, and it puts a lot of good cops in line to one day become as bitter and miserable as you.

Maybe you just need a vacation, and a therapist. But if you hate us, and your job, retire.

In January I submitted a video of myself singing for Eric Whitacre’s Virtual Choir 3. They got 3,746 submissions from 2,945 people in 73 countries, and I was one of them!

Believe it or not, I actually went through the picture below and tried to find myself (I failed). But I’m in the credits so I’m in there somewhere.

The Choir will premiere on April 2nd at Lincoln Center. I’m trying to get tickets, but they say there will be a live webcast for people who can’t be there. I’ll post details when I have them.

I was able to pick up a copy of Robert Nathan’s Portrait of Jennie and start reading it. This was a new-ish edition brought out by a publisher called Tachyon Publishing. Sean Stewart wrote the introduction, and in it he talks about how the artist’s job (or compulsion) is to bear witness.

I thought about that. If I were to sum up my own compulsion, it would be to recover. I always want to bring back what was lost or forgotten.

The lobby of the former Western Union building.

Everyone is talking about it, and with good reason. On March 15, a Prince George’s Community College student named Stephon, who was born deaf, went to an energy policy event in Maryland where the President gave a speech. Afterwards, while waiting to try to shake his hand, Stephon signed, “I’m proud of you.” And Obama signed back, “Thank you.”

You can see it here. Another sweet, sweet moment brought to you by our president (and Stephon).

Dental News: I panicked this morning because I still need pain killers around the clock and when I googled to see how long this might last, almost everyone I read who had this kind of bone graft said their pain lasted three days. The ones whose pain lasted longer had infections and their bone grafts failed! I called my dentist and saw him right away. He said I was actually healing very nicely, and that my bone graft was a much bigger deal than the three-days-painfree people, and mine was very invasive involving a big and sensitive area, etc. So I feel better about it all.

I went to choir rehearsal last night even though I’m having a little trouble smiling and talking and singing. It was the right decision, it improved my mood enormously. A picture of my walk along the way. This is 11th Street. New York City is so pretty!

I describe this very block in my book about singing, and what it will look like in a few weeks (or month) when those petals begin to fall.

I wonder how people with serious illnesses do it. I’m supposed to take pain killers every six hours except I’m lucky if I make five, and I’ve already been in pain for an hour or two by then.

It’s better if I take the Vicodin, but I can only take Vicodin following a full meal or else I get sick, and then I always feel so sad after. Also, I don’t like feeling groggy and light-headed during the day. All those scenes of House popping Vicodin all day long seem implausible to me now. I’m getting by on Advil and Tylenol mostly.

You’re all probably sick of hearing about this. I want my old mouth back!! What else can I talk about? I saw the movie Portrait of Jennie yesterday. It was so wonderfully transportive, it made me happy. Afterwards I looked around for a copy of the book at a reasonable rate. I found one at a place I won’t mention, because I can’t get there until tomorrow and I am afraid it might get snatched up by then.

One of my mood regulators. When the cats are fed and happy, I’m happy.