Stacy Horn

I have just a few Spring Cleaning few things left to do today, but I think after that I will take an actual day off. I haven’t done that since I went full time. I had too much writing work to do. I should write today as well, but what the hell.

Every tree one block over had a “No Parking” sign for Saturday. What is going to happen Saturday? If it’s a movie shoot they usually say so, so perhaps some street work of some kind. Look how green it is!

Thanks to my friend Chris, I got to see Noam Chomsky last night. He was supposed to talk about justice and injustice in the fifties, and he did, but he really talked about justice and injustice throughout all the decades he has lived. Ultimately, he left me a little depressed. I agreed with much of what he said about what’s going on now, both good and the bad, but here’s what I took away: compared to other times there is a lot less repression, but we’re not using our relative freedom. There is more hopelessness. More a feeling of “what can I do?” Our inaction is a gift to business and other elements we should be protesting and speaking up about.

I will not be protesting today. I will be cleaning. The next two days are my annual Spring Cleaning. I just love sprucing up. I got up early even though it’s my day off and I didn’t have to.

Bikes all over the place!  This is what I saw when I came up out of the Chambers Street subway stop yesterday.  Tons and tons o’ bicyclists.  For the NYPD to pester.  (Sorry my NYPD friends. But what is it about you guys and bikes?  You hate them!)

More bicyclists. There were plenty of adorable junior bicyclists as well.

On the weekends, when I take a different subway home, I see those three words from a sign in the distance.

I love those three words. It could be taken a number of ways, but for some reason I take it in a good way. Something great could happen at any time.

Although this morning I wake up and see that it was like The Hurt Locker in Times Square last night.

When I was volunteering during the 9/11 recovery effort down at St. Paul’s, musicians would come at lunch and play for the recovery workers. A quartet led by violinist Jorge Avila came regularly. I knew Jorge because he leads the orchestra that plays for all the Grace Church Choral Society concerts. One week Jorge came, but the other members of the quartet weren’t there. I don’t know if there was a mix-up about the days or what, but after waiting Jorge finally stood and played alone.

Now the truth is, while the recovery workers were always very grateful to the musicians, they were tired so the music was treated as background music while they ate or socialized.

When Jorge stood and played, that’s what happened at first. People were only half-listening. But slowly, person by person, every one in that large room stopped talking and listened. I had never seen them so rapt before (or since). Jorge had those guys in the palm of his hand. I wonder how many knew before listening to Jorge that they could love the sound of a single violin? But afterward some of them said it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.

If you can afford to go to this benefit, you will have the pleasure of listening to Jorge in an intimate and I’m told gorgeous setting (someone’s very swank NYC apartment), while sipping cocktails, and benefiting my choir, one of the best things in my life. So I of course would be very grateful. (I also understand if you don’t have the money right now.)

I’m going to be emailing some of you as well. But the important thing is if you buy the tickets through me you save $25.