Women would go out to lunch and come back to the office to find their wallets somehow missing from the pocketbooks they had held tightly between their knees throughout the meal. Late one night, leaving a party on the Lower East Side, we saw a hulking, derelict figure emerge from under a stairwell, ready to do mayhem. When he saw how many we were he frowned and retreated beneath the stairs without saying a word, waiting for the next victim.
View all New York Times newsletters. It was a gray city, a weary one, an older one. There were, in those days, pornographic theaters in good neighborhoods; Bowery-style wino bars with sawdust on the floor on Upper Broadway; prostitutes along West End Avenue slipping into cars with New Jersey license plates.
It was a city, too, that seemed to open up into an infinite series of magic boxes, of novelty shops and diners, delicatessens and corner bakeries, used record stores and bookstores. Like Barack Obama we read everything we could get our hands on. It was a movie-mad town then, and we lined up for hours in the cold on the East Side to see the latest Fassbinder or Fellini, the new Woody Allen.
We nailed long, flapping schedules of all the revival houses to our walls, from the Thalia and the New Yorker, Theater 80 St. Marks and the Bleecker Street Cinemas. We danced all night at Danceteria, and ate breakfast served by the transvestite waiters. Everything seemed like a revelation, right from the first day at Columbia, when my art humanities professor took us to St.
John the Divine and explained what a Gothic cathedral was. It was a poorer town then, a harder one, but still a place of vaulting ambition, of indelible beauty. We thought we could do anything. We felt such pride to be there.
The age you feel means more than your actual birthdate
Tell us what you think. Please upgrade your browser. See next articles. Newsletter Sign Up Continue reading the main story Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box. I also played electric violin in a blues-rock band that performed in a bar and for ward dances, etc.
My unapproachable ideal was Sugarcane Harris. So I was up to my eyeballs in the Rock music of my generation. I remember counseling with a respected and very spiritual Language Training Mission this was before the MTC mentor in about my rock music attraction not to say addiction. He reassured me that I would grow out of it.
But the challenge is that there are many lovely and happy and, I think, innocent things e.
These things, I cannot deny, can still move me. In which case: you have my confession. Surely my spiritual progress would have been facilitated if I had listened to this talk in and somehow abandoned my edgy musical tastes cold turkey. But here I am, still sorting the wheat from the chaff, and arriving at very imperfect results.
- Una Hora Conmigo!
- Quote by Bob Dylan: “I was so much older then; I'm younger than that”.
- A Hint of Steel in the Moonlight--an Archon horror story.
- My Life as a Book (The My Life series)?
- Wednesday night – I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now;
Just two days ago, I put on some earphones loaded with some favorite tunes as I removed snow from my driveway. Seeds of culture are best sown in the fertile ground of infant imitation.
My Back Pages(Album Version) Lyrics The Byrds ※ inluthosi.tk
No amount of criticizing in the teen years can substitute for the young years of example that are lost. And love and understanding are only effective when they are genuine. And to be genuine they must be motivated by love. We must love our young people, whether they are in righteousness or in error. In this way we can give them a chance to discern and to learn. But we must also give them a fair choice. Today many are not succeeding. Not all the links were ready when this post was finished, however, so check out the constantly updated index for a complete list.
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