The reading with Ron Koertge, Brynn Saito and Billy Collins at Poets House, was amazing, and afterward, we went to dinner at Landmarc Tribeca. I like the mussels there. I used to eat fries with the mussels. Back in the days of French fries.
I walked from Tribeca back to Chelsea; on the way back, I talked with Mark on the phone. I didn’t want to tell him something was wrong in New York. I could see the world in Chelsea veering into some strange place. Huge police presence, many black cars. In Los Angeles, we call them ghetto birds. The choppers circled the intersection of Chelsea where my hotel is. When I saw the explosion in Chelsea was all over the news, I called Tobi. This morning, I walked to 8th avenue to catch a cab; there were large dark SUVs everywhere. Do guys sit around in those SUVs watching the streets? So many police. But no more choppers. It seemed kind of eerie, people out taking cell phone footage of the area, trash blowing in the wind.
The movie The Boss is a good one. Melissa McCarthy plays a redheaded business woman. The movie’s message is: If your mentor made money being a shark, she might be a shark; expect sharks to be predators. If your mentor is a shark, don’t ever start thinking you are her real friend or her family. Sharks are not your family. Sharks eat fish. Sharks are predators. “She wouldn’t kick us out,” the kids say, but she does. Watch the water for sharks and don’t become one.