Stacy Horn

Not as in I’m homesick, but I’m home sick. I don’t feel like doing anything. I think I have just enough food in the house to get by. Hey, before I forget, is anyone going to Jon Stewart’s Return to Sanity rally? I’m thinking of going. It’s so easy. DC is very close for me.

Anyway, I’ve been doing a ton of reading about Haydn, and what popped out for me were the affairs he had. The man was a musical genius, but I’m afraid that this is what I plan to write about. Sorry, Haydn. His wife was having an affair too by the way, so I don’t get the sense that anyone was hurt. I just can’t resist these letters he wrote.

I’ve often thought this building on the corner of Perry, Waverly and Seventh Avenue was like a mini-West Village Flatiron Building.

Not that there was ever a person who at any time in history would have taken home a discarded mattress—now I don’t even want to walk on the same block where one of them has been put out.

I didn’t notice the guy in the window as I was taking this. Hello, neighbor!

I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch, but I meekly cancelled because of the rain, and she emphatically agreed about rescheduling, so now I feel better about it!

To do today: pick up library book, transcribe notes from library yesterday, make a “to do” plan for the new chapter.

I took pictures of the paintings at the Met that literally seemed to glow or shine out with light, but of course my pictures don’t really capture it. This one came the closest. In person, at the Met, you practically needed sun glasses to look at it.

Each chapter of my new book is going to feature a piece of music. I’ve mostly decided which pieces I’m going to do, but every now and again a piece will pop up while I’m listening to my ipod, like the Brahms motet titled Wo ist ein so herrlich Volk, and I think, I should get lost in this one for a while.

Brahms wasn’t wild about this piece, I just read. WTF? I just flashed on a scene from when I was 12 years old. A friend of mine was saying how she liked this other friend of mine. I had to tell her that this other friend didn’t like her. “Do you still like her now,” I asked. “Well,” she answered, “it’s hard to continue to like someone when you hear that they don’t like you.” It was so honest and vulnerable at a time when we were all so careful to be anything but.

This motet is from a series of three, and maybe Brahms didn’t think the other two were the best things he’s ever done, but he must have liked this sweet little jewel of a motet. I can’t find a good version to point you too. The ones I’ve found are all performed so fast and clunkily. That isn’t a word I see. Clunk-like? The beauty is lost when it’s done this way.

This picture is from fashion week. These people were waiting to get into Abercrombie & Fitch. All I could think was “bed bugs.” (They had to close down to deal with a bed bug infestation. Does everyone know we’re being over-run by bedbugs here in New York?)

These are some of the pictures I’ve sent to my friend Jackie as possible candidates to incorporate into a new banner. I like those top two, but I think when they’re shrunk to banner size they’ll be so tiny they’ll lose what I like about them. Maybe those stretching paws are the best solution (referring to an earlier post and picture).