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.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Only The Light Fixtures Are Different
There used to be tons of florescent lit places to go to in the middle of the night for a quick bite only a couple of dollars. Now even the 24-hour post office closes at 10 and the all night diner on 34th is really expensive.
Luckily for us, the pizza joint down the street - "one of the top ten!" David points out - is still open and in the lovely faux brick and marble, we eat our slices and pour talk of putting on plays in kindergarten, whether UPS is hotter than FedEx, the necessity of therapy to keep sane in an artist's life, concrete verse trees - discuss, the fact that Devil in Miss Jones is the only porn film in existence with a plot, and the pressing need of a support group for cats of writers.
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.