Daily Blague

There's little or no incentive to post an entry today, because a sizable contingent of readers isn't going to check in. They're the people who like to know what Kathleen's up to, and today they can do that without my help, because she's right there with them, in Raymond, Maine, where her old summer camp sits on Lake Sebago, and where a couple of fellow counselors have weekend houses. Kathleen flew up this morning, on an eight-o'clock plane. I made the mistake of getting up with her. Twilight is far off, but I can hardly keep my eyes open.

How about all those crazy people, sitting out in the sun! Sheer madness.

In the distance is the Manhattan Psychiatric Center. It looks deserted when we drive by on the Triboro Bridge, but apparently it's still in operation. Ha! It's address is a very misleading "600 East 125th Street." What kind of a joke is that? Although within the Borough of Manhattan, the center is not on Manhattan Island, but on Ward Island, across the Harlem River. You can tell that I was visiting in the middle of the day, because the shadows projected by the wings are so thin. About now, the shadows will make the building look like the enormous sundial that, come to think of it, it is.

The weather is so beautiful that I supplemented a trip to the grocery store with a walk to Carl Schurz Park. I looked across the East River at the Astoria Houses, with, just beyond them, the much swankier Pot Cove Tower. I'm pretty sure that that's not what the luxury building, visible from our balcony, is called, but Pot Cove is what it stands over. I took pictures, but my hand wasn't steady enough. When are they going to make cameras without push buttons?