doesn’t read stories
make her blue – world’s all bitched up
it always was, will
Adapted from the passage, “She doesn’t read political or war stories because she can’t understand them and because they make her blue. “The world is all bitched up,” she once said. “Always was, always will be.” “Do you really believe that?” she was asked. “No,” she said, after a moment of deliberation, “I guess I don’t.” She spends half an hour in the diner. Then, practically every night, before going home to bed, she makes a Samaritan tour of the Bowery and its environs. She carries an umbrella and a large handbag, which contains a flashlight, a number of cakes of soap of the size found in hotel bathrooms, and a supply of nickels, dimes, and quarters.”
From the short essay, Mazie by Joseph Mitchell in his collection of essays, McSorley’s wonderful saloon originally published in 1943.
In the forward to this edition of Mr. Michell’s essays, Mr. Calvin Trillin writes, “What struck me as astonishing was that he was able to get the marks of writing off his pieces. The words seem to have just appeared on the page by some process that was the reverse of those magic slate pages that children lift to make what they’ve written or drawn vanish. … Like Joe DiMaggio, Joe Mitchell made it look perfectly natural, even though nobody else could exactly do it.”
Wikipedia writes of this essay, “Mitchell was open to taking on the challenge of profiling the female central character of Mazie. The writing process was challenging until his central character would give him “the revealing remark.” The 1938 World Telegram description of Mazie P. Gordon reveals she was known as “Miss Mazie” to the men she interacted with around the Venice Theatre. She is blonde, kind, and has exaggerated hair and makeup. Two years later, when Mitchell profiled Mazie in The New Yorker, some critics called Mitchell an anthropologist in his description. Mazie becomes more than just a blonde and kind woman, and instead is shown to be complex and strong-willed. Mitchell’s close observation of Mazie set a new standard for writers and reporters. Mitchell’s curiosity without judgement inspired writers to continue Mazie’s legacy.”
Faboulous.
Word painting.
Painting with words.
If I knew how it did it I would do it.
Like any ball player could do what Dimaggio did.
As a final word, as Mazie is quoted:
“The world is all bitched up,” she once said. “Always was, always will be.”
“Do you really believe that?” she was asked.
“No,” she said, after a moment of deliberation, “I guess I don’t.”
And have fun this summer and find a copy of , McSorley’s wonderful saloon (which I understand is still open in New York City and longest continuously in operation pub in town.)
No Haiku For You 