Another New York day

We've had no water last night, as the water workers are doing some work on the water. Debs thinks everyone else is probably using the water because that's the New Yorker way. Thank goodness it's nearly day and we will have water again in half an hour.

I'm thinking about going to a museum this morning. Either Brooklyn Museum or the Guggenheim. We're not going to do the painting today, because we have dinner guests this evening. Debs is doing turkey and basmati rice. She's a great cook. More than great. Really, really impressed.

Turpentine

Grrrr, just walked round Fort Greene looking for a hardware store to buy some turps as Debs was going to give me an oil painting lesson. But I could not find the store. Bought Blanaid a nice pair of turquoise and pink gloves from the Dollar Store, popped in the Greenlight bookstore and gave up.

Sidewalk Cafe

Ooooh, I played piano for the first time ever at a gig last night and it was wonderful. I really enjoyed it. The piano was at a right angle to the audience, and I found it so strange to turn my head towards the audience and look at them while I was playing.

The sound was so good and professional in New York, felt different to London gigs in a good way. I think I would really like to play some Open Mics here, but doubt I have time. I have two more gigs this week at Tillie's Cafe here in Fort Greene on Friday, and at Banjo Jim's on Thursday.

I'm having such a cool time, and Debs is a great host.

Fort Greene

Visited the local park where a Walt Whitman impersonator stalks park-goers with 'Leaves of Grass'. He wasn't there today though.

The park is named after General Nathanael Greene and a fort which he supervised the building of - Greene was an American revolutionary general who helped Washington in the Battle of Long Island in 1776.

The big monument in the middle and the crypt, now the visitor centre, is erected in the memory of the patriots who died on the British prison ships during the American revolution.

I walked a little further along, down Myrtle Avenue. Debs says that this was once called Murder Avenue, when things were much rougher here. Further I made my way through council housing (I think, some American version of) called after Walt Whitman, nosed at people taking their kids out on a Sunday afternoon and thought of London estates, rolled up at the Expressway to Queens. I didn't go any further though.