johnozed

The woman on the bus next to me had killer morning breath. I wish I could tell her. She was too busy talking on her cellphone the whole ride back to Hoboken. And it was crowded. She possibly carried that morning mouth with her all day. I could smell it even though I just finished smoking a Padron 5000 Natural. Someone should have told her, but not me. I don’t know her or work with her. But I am the type of friend that would tell you that your breath stinks, or you have a snot hanging out of your nose. A bat in the cave as it were.

I heard from Marcus today. Actually I called him. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’s a true Rasta pal. I’ve known Marcus since about 1992, when I started working for Skyline Studios. Marcus was hustling on the street around the studio so naturally we hit it off. My friend Miriam and I hung out with Marcus, Jesse and the late, lamented Poncho. I remember the owners of the studio allowed me to have a small party in one of the lounges that weren’t being used. Miriam, the Rastas and myself, blazing away. One of the owners walked through the clouds, tsk tsk’ing, but nothing was said.

I hung out with the Rastas quite a bit, even after the studio was sold and I went to another studio. Marcus had many jobs and one of them was driving a dollar van up and down Flatbush Avenue, or Kings Highway. He was also the group leader of the Rastas and would put his stash in his van in Manhattan going to it on occasion to replenish supplies. After their work was done, meaning after the commuters passed by and picked up their needs for home, we would all hang out in the van getting quite jazzy.

I had the idea that I should drive since the police wouldn’t look twice at a white guy driving a van around midtown Manhattan rather than a jazzed up dreadlocked Rasta. It worked, we never got pulled over. I would just drive and drive around midtown and after an hour I would drop myself off a block or two from the bus terminal and get on line for my bus, not noticing that I reeked of jazz, and my eyes were quite bloodshot while wondering why people were staring at me. The dreads told me I looked Chinese. I was oblivious.

A few times I made it out to Brooklyn which was a major accomplishment. I went to a few parties, believing Marcus when he said that he’d meet me at some Ballroom on Church Avenue at 10:00PM. I would show up at 10:00 exactly only to find no Marcus there. One time I showed up on time and a large group of brothers were hanging out watching a boxing match on TV Everything stopped when I walked into the ballroom. I was the only white guy in the vicinity. At least the only one that wasn’t a cop. I was wearing a suit and tie because Marcus asked me to. Everyone else that went to these parties were from Guyana or Suriname and dressed to the nines, albeit flashy, so Marcus felt I should dress up too. But he wasn’t there yet, so he sent one of his brothers, either Clarence, Kenneth or Jamal to entertain me until Marcus showed.

He showed, and I soon left. Making the acquaintance of two young men on the train, headed for NYU. They didn’t know where they were going really so I instructed them to get off at West 4th Street. They were most grateful and when they asked my name I told them Allen Goldfarb.

This has been an experiment for myself since I heard that some people are tired of reading about my routine in the morning. Apparently I write the samo samo in the beginning. It usually gets me started and obviously I jump off from there. So no more bagels and papers, showers and cereal, at least for the time being. I also heard that there might be other readers besides Annemarie, Kathe, Harpy, Juan and Song. Maybe brother Frank, possibly Bill. So I am content with these seven. It would be cool if other people said hello in the comment section just to know who is reading this……hell, it would be cool if any of those seven wrote something in the comment box.

Looking into the future through a dirty window

Back to work because it’s Monday again. Yesterday I didn’t do much of anything. They rains finally came. No beach this weekend. Saturday would’ve been nice, but Billie wasn’t up for both Coney Island and a movie. We wound up doing neither. Early evening dinner at the Film Center Cafe, which was nice. Then it was a quiet ride home after seeing Billie off to his gate, Bill sleeping on the bus, me reading the Onion, then back at home where Bill fell asleep on the couch. Then I sent him off to bed where I joined him soon enough.

I went out Sunday morning around 8:00 to get bagels and the papers and it was a beautiful morning. A perfect beach morning. It changed a few hours later, lightning, thunder and rain for a few hours then it stopped, but I had no motivation to go out. I stayed in and watched some DVD’s. I watched Creature Comforts, but it was weird. It was the Christmas episode, and it was hard to connect since it was the end of July. They did cancel the US version after three episodes. Stupid CBS. We’ll see if I watch them before I turn 65.

I also watched Apocalypto. Not your average Disney flick. It was barely ok. The scenery was nice, the lead actor was a handsome guy once you got past the piercings, the story was compelling and Mel Gibson was actually right by having it acted in Mayan. You do get more involved with the story with a different (read:dead) language. I wouldn’t know about The Passion. I didn’t see it since I knew how it ended. He dies at the end. I guess I should have written Spoiler Alert, but I didn’t so there. Very Jeezy Creezy indeed! In case you were wondering about Apocalypto, the Spanish show up at the end. There goes another Spoiler Alert. Oh well.

I tried watching Love is the Devil, starring Derek Jacobi and Daniel Craig. It’s about Francis Bacon and the thug who gets caught breaking into his house, and the relationship they soon fell into. I like Francis Bacon’s paintings, but I just couldn’t get in the mood for a harrowing, shrill dark movie, though the weather outside certainly lent itself towards the lack of frivolity. Bill came home halfway through it and I decided to turn off the movie since if I wasn’t into it, I had my doubts that he would be.

Then we just chilled out. Bill slowly getting ready for his trip to Winston-Salem, North Carolina for the National Black Theater Festival. Bill, being black would definitely fit in. Me, not so easily. He goes every couple of years and it makes for a nice time out from each other. I’m sure I get on his nerves sometimes, and he gets on my nerves sometimes so that is why the time out is a good thing. I know I’ll be hearing his stories (and perhaps you will too) when he comes back.

Work was busy and quiet. I was actually given something to do which was good. A lot of the time I have nothing to do. I just do my work too soon and wind up lolly gagging during different periods of the work day. Tomorrow it should be more in depth, regarding what I have to do and believe it or not, I am looking forward to it.

Here’s a picture of Stella, the puppy next door, courtesy of Mike and Nicole, our neighbors.

And here’s a picture of Daniel Craig in a Speedo.

they’re both soooo cuddly.

♫ I’ve got nothing to say, but it’s ok ♪

It’s a hot and sticky Saturday. They kept saying rain rain rain but it’s been hot hot hot. And not a drop of rain. It would have been a great beach day but the threat of rain put the kibosh on the plan that Billie and I had to possibly go to Coney Island. We should have gone, the sun was beaming and there was a sand castle contest scheduled for today. I woke up around 9:00, later than usual even for a weekend. Just could not get out of bed, so much easier to just roll over away from the light.

Bill went out and got me the papers and the bagels which was quite nice. I didn’t leave the apartment until 1:30. That’s then I realized how hot it was. Too hot to stay outside. Nice and breezy once again on the fifth floor. There was a back up plan in case there was no beach excursion, to go see Talk to Me starring Don Cheadle as Petey Green, a DJ from the seventies in Washington DC. That was at 5:35 so there was time to take a quick nap underneath a fan for a little while which is what I did.

After that I watched the laundry I did earlier in the day, dry. That was most of the afternoon. I also finished Andrew Loog Oldham’s 2Stoned. Spoiler alert: He lives. What a mess he was. Not so sure that moving to Colombia was the wisest move for someone who had a major cocaine addiction, but he’s now a Scientologist so whatever works I guess. I needed something to read for my bus ride into the city so I read the New Yorker from two weeks ago which was only mildly entertaining. Wasn’t in the mood for a piece on the Taliban and the Opium trade flourishing once again.

Met up with Billie and Bill at the Port Authority and walked over to the theater where we found it was sold out. Bill was not too discreet with his disappointment over the fact that I didn’t buy my tickets online like I did the other day. Well maybe he should have bought the tickets then. But he didn’t and felt perfectly alright with his being disappointed. Billie and I will see it next week, while Bill hustles the Black Theater Festival in North Carolina next week.

We had a nice dinner at the Film Center Cafe which had a make over since I had last been there a couple of years ago. Prices are still reasonable and it’s gotten somewhat sleeker than the dark wood grained place it used to be. Bill entertained Billie with his tales of an actor’s life. I had heard it and lived it already. Since there was no movie, everything ended a lot earlier than expected, Billie headed on a bus back to his hotel in Secaucus, Bill and I back to Bokeyland. He sleeps now, and he slept on the bus. I sit and sweat.

Here’s some pics

This is turning out to be an odd day. Last night, plans to see Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were mutually canceled, but that was after I ate a few whopper juniors from Burger King, thinking that I wouldn’t have much of a chance to eat should we go to the show, Billie and I. I used to eat that crap a lot but now I like to think I eat better. Salads, maybe a dish of pasta once a week and for dinner I eat light. But man those whoppers. I’ll think twice before I eat that again.

Bill was at his folks last night, so I was solo. Just watched TV and got jazzy. Bill phoned before he went to sleep and reminded me to turn on my alarm clock because I hadn’t the past couple of mornings and Bill took it upon himself to wake me up. So before I drifted off to sleep I turned on the alarm. This morning I woke up to Dust in the Wind by Kansas. I hated that song then and hate it now. It was supposedly a satanic song, but then again the list of possible satanic songs was more than likely written by a fundamentalist. They also wrote that Bridge over Troubled Water was about heroin. Sail on silver girl. Oh that nasty Paul Simon.

I shuffled about, thankful that I washed my whites last night since I was all out of t shirts for work. Had some coffee, some cereal, and then the phone rang. It was Bill. I thought he was checking to see if I was awake but it was to ask me to bring in a pair of trousers since the ones he had were holy in the crotch. I’m not going there. Really, I’m not. I found a nice pair and put them in a bag and then I was out again walking to the bus. It was humid this morning and was quite moist when I got to Bill’s office building.

I got the run around from the building personnel on where I could drop off the trousers, finally getting the right person on the third attempt. I walked across midtown and by the time I got to my office building I was drenched. Luckily I keep an extra t-shirt hanging in the IT room which is nice and cold. I changed and then went about starting up the office. Got a call from Billie who will be in town for yet another week and we made tentative plans to go see Talk to Me starring Don Cheadle. The movie takes place in DC in the seventies and Bill and I saw a clip last week, seeing and hearing Don Cheadle saying, ‘I’m not that crazy…’ he sounded just like Billie which made us both agree on a plan to see it with Billie as soon as we could. And so this weekend we could.

I’ve gotten a few emails from some nutter in Germany via youtube. Some whack job sent me a video honoring Klebold and Harris from Columbine and the asshole from West Virginia Tech, explaining that he admires these blanks because they stood up and did something after being picked on for so long. Sick stuff indeed. He’s been flagged. Then a little while ago, I get a phone call from someone looking for Mark. Apparently this Mark had my number in his cellphone and Mark hasn’t been seen in weeks. I honestly don’t know who this Mark is, but in this Internet age, a lot of people don’t use their real names, preferring a nom de net. So I may have chatted with Mark aka…somewhere down the line, and now Mark aka… is missing. Peculiar.

It’s an early blog today. The office closed early. I have no plans yet again, just taking it easy. I’ll probably watch TV, maybe a dvd and sit on the couch, thinking, I better get started on the blog. Oh me and my ADD.

Here’s a little Grace Jones to start your weekend off in a Grace Jones way.

It’s Thursday and awfully humid. Last night was a lot of fun, seeing Hairspray which in hindsight, I liked more today than I did last night. I could see myself seeing it again, though I’m not sure if it will be in the movies. Bill and I came home, I wrote, he went to bed where I joined him soon after. He had an audition for One Life to Live but he doesn’t think it went too well. I tried cheering him up over the phone but he was a bit upset about flubbing the audition. There will be other auditions but he was really psyched about this one.

This morning was no big deal, just the usual thing. I am not complaining. I do like where I work and feel I am well liked. True, no one is telling me how much they like me everyday but still I enjoy the place and my co-workers. Carla is great, Tom Chin is flaky, Greg Stevens is good and Vivek is frantic but still ok to deal with and it’s his company after all. I was invited to go to Long Beach Island next week to stay with brother Frank and Elaine, but I am having my doubts about doing that.

I could only really take one day off, and it would be Friday. It would be a day of rising a bus down there, and then coming back the next day. It’s not as close as Sandy Hook or even Monmouth Beach. I don’t know. I’d like to go, they would like me to come, but Jeezy Creezy, I don’t know if it’s doable. Such a hard decision. A few days off would be nice, but I’ve already taken a few days off earlier this month when Annemarie, Rex and Earl were in town. I just don’t know. And now Juan has asked me to take next Friday off so we could hang….Argh. Last week I was Miss Lonely Hearts, this week I’m fielding invitations to the (beach) ball.

I had an errand to run this afternoon and it was into the hummus for me, I had to go to Penn Station and pick up tickets for Greg Stevens and Vivek who are traveling to Newport next week. I should have told them they were 41 years too late. Dylan went electric around this time all those years ago. Oh those folkies, Greg and Vivek. Will they ever learn to lay off the poteen?

Billie and I made plans to go and see Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. They played McSwells a while ago and both Rand and Roda raved about it. Sharon Jones played with Booker T and the MG’s a few weeks ago and all seemed well, but I was tired from the errand in the heat and dealing with Michelle Penn Station but planned to rally myself when the time came, but Billie called me up, he was feeling a touch unwell and decided to just go back to his hotel in Secaucus. I didn’t complain. I understood.

I wasn’t really looking forward to standing around in the shoes that I wear maybe twice a year. With all the walking around I was doing today my feet were aching. And I even bought Dr. Scholl’s Gel things but even though I was gellin’ they were a hurtin’. So I’m home, nice breeze coming through the window, causing some high beams. Some light jazz wafts through the air. In the distance a whistle blows from the basketball courts where they are having their play offs or maybe a championship.
Whee!

Here’s a little something from Robert Greenwald about how FuckSnooze has Bloggers in their crosshairs.