A My Private Coney project Flash non-fiction, brief moments and old memories of a city and mother's emotional and physical real estate disappearing at the speed of heartbreak.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday Memories - ... And Don't Call Me Shirley*
It was 1979 and me and Dany saw it in a theater - probably the nice one on 8th Street and University before NYU bought it and made it a fancy screening center for their students.
And then Sony invented a VCRs that was affordable and VHSs could be rented down the street at the new video store which had replaced the neighborhood hardware store. So me and Joni watched it at home.
And then I watched it late night on TV in between the commercials that made it look like a classic drama.
And then years and years in between normal conversations peppered with "Joey, do you like movies with gladiators?" and "Looks like I picked the wrong week to give up sniffing glue.", an occasional DVD rentals from the library when times were blue.
And then 30 years after that first time in that movie theater, a gathering in a living room because two friends had never seen it and we all wanted to be there to watch them laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh...
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.