She perused a photography book about New York while listening to Liza Minnelli’s “New York, New York” on the victrola. What was it about this double trouble big city that attracted her attention so these days? Was it her mother’s Douglas also known as Albert? A creation’s creation, she thinks, just to see what would happen. A star guitarist in both a rock and classical sense, culminating with a *little* gig, he he, on the circumference of the yin-yang symbol formed by Black Lake and White Lake known as Woodstock. *Also* in New York. Along with a convoluted tangle of interstates in Rochester called the Can of Worms, like Yoko Ono told Paul McCartney would be opened if she let him reverse the names Lennon-McCartney on even one Beatles recording. He requested this for perhaps his signature track “Yesterday”. She, being Lennon’s widow and thus 1/2 responsible for the decision, refused. Bad blood ensued, or badder blood. When his wife Linda McCartney died in ’98 she wasn’t invited to the New York City wake. New York again. It keeps cropping up.
City of Lights indeed. Unless it’s Paris.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 