Wherefore art thou, sanity?

My Bride went to a Ladies Party on Sunday afternoon. A Ladies Party is where someone invites all of her lady friends over and then proceeds to sell them stuff. I think this all started in the 1950s with Tupperware. This time, it was jewelry. Sometimes, it’s clothing or make-up or cleaning products. I take a suspicious view of all this. If I had a bunch of guy friends over for beers and poker and tried to sell them gym memberships, I’d probably get a good swift kick in the nobby-halls.

I gathered The Daughters and escaped into the city. It’s finally starting to become spring-like. I took them to a play in Greenwich Village but before the show we hung out in Washington Square Park for a bit.


I wonder what she was pointing out? I’ll never know.

There’s always a busker or two around. Someone rolled a piano into the park and was played Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (see pic above). After that we watched a contortionist fold himself into a tiny Plexiglas cube. What a way to make a living! I’ll bet it beats the hell out of sitting at a desk all day. That’s no fun. Take it from me.


I took them to see the sickeningly talented Flying Karamazov Brothers at the Minetta Lane Theater. The Brothers (who aren’t) are world class jugglers and also pretty damn good musicians, dancers and comedians.


I saw their show last fall and had been meaning to take the girls. I read that they’re packing up their flaming torches, pins and tutus and heading off to London, so I got tickets to their last day in New York. As satisfying as ever. UK readers; they’re starting a summer run at the Vaudeville in June. They’ll make you forget all your troubles for :90 minutes, and who couldn’t use that?

Before the show, we were sitting in a booth at a diner on 6th Avenue, me across from the two of them. I sipped my coffee and watched them eat. Two healthy, happy, well behaved, pretty little girls. I looked out the window at a sun-soaked Manhattan. Show tickets in my pocket. A hot meal waiting for us when we got home. Tickets to a top-shelf production of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors for next week. Can someone tell me where my sanity is?

Why, while possessing all the ingredients for a satisfying life, do I still occasionally want to run someone off the freeway into a bridge abutment if I see them using the cell phone while driving? Why do I allow some people at work to burrow so deep under my skin that I’d like to stick a pencil in their eye? Why do I fret about bull whipping the first person who breaks my daughter’s heart (which, let’s face it, is inevitable)? Is this part of the human condition or is it my singular madness?


22 thoughts on “Wherefore art thou, sanity?

  1. The I wonder what she was pointing out? I’ll never know caption took me by surprise. You’re usually less… whimsical, aren’t you? Still, singular madness = no. And I have youth on my side even.(You like my two annas worth of cheekiness to cheer you up?)

  2. Pointa: I’ve managed to convince myself that I have a special brand of lunacy. In this regard, I hope to be ordinary.Nimpipi: Another assurance that I’m not broken. Well…I suppose that’s what I was looking for. I had to Google “annas,” although its meaning is implied. Now THAT’S cheeky!

  3. man in a cube vs. man in a cube? i’d opt for the cube, myself.i want to have babies with the Flying Karamozov (non-)Brothers. can you hook me up?singular madness? no. you have PMS.

  4. daisy: PMS! It’s a medial miracle. Pass the Mydol. Do they still make that stuff?Hem: That’s one of my fav Bukowski poems as well! I am constantly quoting it to people, trying to make myself sound literary and clever.

  5. I loved the sudden shift in the last paragraph.I worry about all those too. I take it as a personal failure if I develop passionate dislikes to others; but it happens. And now that my children are about to be teenagers, I will be inspecting any men that start coming round here with a quiet but intense attention.

  6. nurse: According to Google, it’s British slang for testicles.looby: Honestly? I think I could handle a woman coming ’round for my daughter better than I can a man. I know what men want. I used to be one.sid: 9-year old LOVED-LOVED it but 5-year old got kind of detached after about :60 minutes.

  7. but a shoelace that snaps/ with no time left… is that the one? as for the last paragraph, the only one that matters is the person who breaks your daughters heart, the rest don’t matter, though we all have to have it broken sometime just so we know.

  8. Pat: I thought that sweet old ladies didn’t have bitchy thoughts. That’s what makes them sweet old ladies. Imagine my surprise!Kono: Yup. That’s the one. A fantastic poem, isn’t it? And so true to life. I just want to spare my kids any pain. That is, of course, ridiculous, but that’s how I feel.

  9. Love the last paragraph, don’t fret my friend it is part of the life of a working father (A dad not a priest)Let me know if you need any help with the beatings, you know any excuse to get back up to Gotham and all.Cheers, Sausage…

  10. I just need to point out, as an Englishman, that I have never, in 47 years of bad company, come across the phrase “nobby halls” before.

  11. SF: I know it’s all part and parcel of being human but I really do worry about the somewhat violent nature of some of my mental wanderings.looby: Well, I saw it on the internet. Are trying to imply that there’s bad information on the internet?dinah: No way! Is that true?! I love little factoids like that. Did you know that white-out was invented by the mother of Mike Nesmith of the Monkees?kykn: At long last, I stand out at something instead of walking lock-step with the masses.

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