Monthly Archives: September 2007

Follow The Red Line

A beautiful day and it’s great to wake up in a bed with clean sheets (thanks to Bill going to the laundromat for 2 hours last night). So comfortable to sleep in and Bill is so comfortable to sleep with. Things are good lately and yesterday we made a pretty good team. While Bill was laundering, I threw in the dvd of DiG!, a documentary of the rivalry between the Brian Jonestown Massacre and the Dandy Warhols. I found it harrowing and Bill came in halfway through and he loved it. I guess it was too close to home, the rock and roll debauchery thing, having spent quite a few nights partying with bands after hours at McSwells. Of course all that cleaning and moving stuff around tired us out enough that Bill only lasted the first half hour of Saturday Night Liver whereas I hung in there until the end. I enjoyed it, the SNL Digital Short was hilarious as well. Kanye West was pretty good too.

Which way to Oz?

But first a foot long hot dog!

Today was a day where I went to get bagels, but you know all about that so I won’t chew my cabbage twice. They were setting up on Washington Street for the Hoboken Art and Music Festival. They have one in the spring and one in the autumn. This years featured bands from McSwells heyday. Chris Stamey Group, Glenn Mercer (from the Feelies) The Health and Happiness Show and the headliners, the Bongos. Brother Frank and his wife Elaine made it down which was cool. Good to see them out and about and the day was excellent for all concerned, perfect weather, not too hot, not too cold, just Goldilocks.

I made it down Washington Street earlier as things were being set up around 11:00 this morning as I ran errands around town. I needed my Stevia and I was running low. I can’t do with out my Stevia here at home and I’m glad I can buy it so close to home. It’s for my coffee. Started using it around November 2005 and haven’t looked back since. And it’s full of fiber. Jeezy Creezy! I’m writing about fiber? What’s next? A review of the new flavor of Metamucil?

I made it down to the Observer Highway stage where the Chris Stamey Group was playing. Stamey used to be in the dB’s and still is sometimes. He was playing a bit of the old and a bit of the new, but the sound was really loud and there weren’t enough bodies to filter out the high ends. I stood off to the side and listened, looking at people.

Chris Stamey Group

A former cook from McSwells, Eddie and his boyfriend Pat came over to see me. I actually saw them first but waited for them to come to me. Eddie used to have a thing for me back in the day. I liked him, but not that way. Still he’s a nice guy. So is Pat, but Pat and I never had anything to say to each other, maybe because of Eddie’s unrequited feelings for me.

Glenn Mercer
Next up was Glenn Mercer who sounded good, but I saw him a year or so ago so I didn’t feel the need to listen to his whole set. Elaine, brother Frank and I wandered through the crowds, up to Tunes, the record store where Frank went in to see what was on sale. Elaine and I stood outside talking about things. Catching up, they’re going to see Brice Springsteen at the Meadowlands. Brother Frank goes back to work tomorrow. Summer’s over, back to school or rather work.

Frank and Elaine

Kathe and Chaz

People (I liked this guy’s hat)

The ghost of Compay Segundo?

We made it back to see the Health and Happiness Show fronted by my friend, Jim Mastro. His wife Meghan was there as well as my kid with Meghan, Lily and Jim and Meghan’s kid, Ruby. They sounded great. I admit back in the day when they were playing regularly I wasn’t that into them, but now it all seemed to gel together. I was in the right mindset and they really sounded great. I’d go see them again should they start playing again.


Jim Mastro (Health & Happiness Show)

After the Health and Happiness Show, Frank and Elaine had to head back to Garfield so I walked them to their car. After saying goodbyes and see you laters, I walked back, firing up a Padron 5000 and saw the Bongos, who I used to love and saw dozens of times. That was 25 years ago. I enjoyed them but for me it was a nostalgic trip. They were fine, but not as good as the Health and Happiness Show.

The Bongos

Jim Mastro, Frank Giannini, Richard Barone and Rob Norris

I usually title each entry after a song that haunted me throughout the day, or merely pops up, or just a title that I pluck out of the ether. Tonight is a title that was misheard by Jet who went with me to a few Bongos shows. He used to hear the Bongos singing Barbarella, as Follow the Red Line. Now when I hear or think of Barbarella, I think of Follow the Red Line.


Mary on a half shell

Hoboken Motor Cycle Club

the best seats

She has the light

The Funnel Cake/Butterfly Fries crowd carries on

♫ Happy Birthday to Earl!
Happy Birthday to Rita! ♪

Shhh! Don’t tell NBC

the video was pulled because a music sample wasn’t cleared with the publisher. doh, indeed.

Gut of the Quantifier

SA-TUR-DAY Night! Well, it is. And I’m tired. Spent the day inside the apartment, cleaning up and throwing things out. There’s still a lot of crap, but we’ve made inroads. It was cool to be cleaning the apartment with Bill. Something we can do together, and we both benefit from it. I know, ‘Awwww’ but the price to pay is exhaustion. A zombie tonight that’s for sure. Also last night’s blog and photos page took a long time. Just writing Sa-tur-day was exhausting. That required enthusiasm and that is in limited supply. Either that or we threw it out with the other trash.

Here’s a sampling of what we listening to today.

Boz Scaggs, What Can I Say? From Silk Degrees.
I can do a pretty good Boz Scaggs impersonation I think. I should do Low Down or Lido Shuffle at a karaoke bar one of these days. I’ve never been to a karaoke bar before, have you? Let’s go, one of these days.

Ghost Walk, The Budos Band.
Got this from a download via Jockohomo, who is really good with the music tips. I find him to be an entertaining blogger and worth checking out, if only for the downloads. And he has pictures of sexy humpy men on occasion.

Maybe This Time, Natasha Richardson from The Cabaret Broadway soundtrack.
Great show stopping song, I would have loved to have seen Natasha Richardson on Broadway as Sally Bowles. I saw Jennifer Jason Leigh and she was good, but all the ushers and building staff hated her guts. I saw it for free through the Roundabout Theater Usher program, just have to wear black trousers and a white shirt.

Philadelphia Freedom, the Elton John Band
Yes I’m a friggin stickler! The original 45 was credited to the Elton John Band, the late Dee Murray, Nigel Olsson, Davey Johnstone and Ray Cooper. Elton’s best band. Stupidly got rid of Dee and Nigel soon after Captain Fantastic was released. My sister saw this line up. Great pop song from my past, 1975, seventh and eighth grade. One of my desert island songs. (That’s something I’ll do someday, make a desert island disc list, he threatened). I met Davey Johnstone on a NYC street about two years ago. That was a thrill, for I was once a HUGE Elton John fan. That’s another story for another time. (he threatened)

Every Time We Say Goodbye, Betty Carter from Night & Day A Cole Porter Selection.
Recorded live at the late Bottom Line and conducted by Dave Amram, this dreamy slice of class is a perfect Sunday morning song. Annie Lennox covered it the first time I heard it so there’s a soft spot in my ear for her version, but this is sublime. And I met Dave Amram once at WFMU when he was on brother Frank’s radio program back in the day.

Love Me or Hate Me, Lady Sovereign.
This is right now the favorite song in the apartment, since I played it for Bill this afternoon. Bill loves the line, “If you love me/then thank you/if you hate me/then fuck you” That’s about it for tonight. Love me or hate me.

No Pictures! No!


Finally Friday is here. As I wrote that a commercial said, ‘It’s finally here!’ I hate it when they cop my style. Madison Avenue Bastards! Last night it was a chore to write, but I got some feedback from some of you who enjoyed my captions which made me take 91 pictures today, thinking “I’ve got to top yesterdays captions.’ This is why it’s generally a good thing not to tell me what a good job I’m doing, because I try to duplicate whatever it is the good job I am doing. Mostly it’s an unconscious thing, then when it becomes conscious I get into trouble. So where does that leave me? Craving for attention and praise and then freaking out when I finally get it.

Yesterday I had an errand to run at the end of the day, had to go to Chelsea, or was it the Flatiron district? Either way I was walking down west 21st Street, past where Danceteria used to be, past where Tramps used to be when I saw someone who looked like the girl who plays David Duchovny’s daughter Becca on Californication. I had my headphones on listening to LCD Soundsystem and the camera wasn’t ready, plus she’s just a kid. I figured it out when someone in a passing car yelled a compliment at her and she smiled while lugging her guitar. About a hundred feet after Madeline Martin came Michelle Hurd who was the black female detective on Law and Order Special Victims Unit. Once again camera wasn’t handy so you’ll have to take my word for it. I don’t think they even made it to Gawker Stalker.

Last night after struggling with the blog last night I watched the Daily Show and Colbert Report which were both quite good. The duet between Stephen Colbert and Tony Bennett was charming. Then I watched the Office which was very good. Great one hour season premiere. Everyone got some good lines in, and it promises to be an interesting season down the line. No more Rashida Jones though. That’s too bad, but Dwight and Angela were hilarious.

The I watched My Name is Earl and that was brilliant. Once again, top notch writing made sure there were a lot of funny lines for everyone. Ben Foster was on, he played Russell on Six Feet Under and from what I heard steals the movie, 3:10 to Yuma, out from under Russell Crowe and Christian Bale. He was good and borderline psychotic. Almost unrecognizable. The scenes with Joy and Earl’s brother Randy were priceless. Dummy!

I didn’t record Ugly Betty but watched it online and that was very good and funny but ultimately sad. Betty’s father is still stuck in Mexico, Amanda and Mark were brilliant with Amanda putting on the pounds after finding out that she is actually Fay Summers daughter, and possibly the daughter of Bradford Meade, Betty and her boss Daniel Meade was bittersweet and Hilda and Santos, well that’s the sad part. So much for hope.

This morning on my way to work, I made a point of swinging through Rockefeller Center where the Boss, err…Bruce Springsteen was playing live backed by the E Street Band. It was crazy crowded and I didn’t linger like I had a couple of years ago, seeing Ringo Starr playing in Bryant Park. I did have the camera ready as Bruce and company started sound checking to The Promised Land. I knew I’d have a chance to see it on TV when I got to the office and of course, he was excellent and had the crowd in the palm of his hand. There was one guy in the audience who they focused on, a black dude who knew every word to the Promised Land it seemed and the camera went to his face as he sang along with Bruce, ‘Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man/and I believe in the Promised Land’. The dude was very emotional and in the moment. If you recorded it like I should have you’ll see him.

Well this was a lot easier than yesterday. Turtle Bay has quieted down somewhat, not the heavy police presence as earlier in the week and the bodyguards have slimmed down and taken to wearing off the rack suits from an ersatz Men’s Wearhouse. There was a demonstration by the United Nations for Burma (formerly Myanmar, formerly Burma), that’s a mess over there. Led by a brutal military regime, the government has shut down access to the Internet as well as text messaging and sending pictures from cellphones. Black Water killed more civilians in Iraq, and the report is backed up by the Iraqi police. Black Water had no comment. Cheney and Bush should pick up big dividends once they get out of the Whore House.

I was approached by a representatives from the Human Rights Coalition, a group that I occasionally give money to. As the guy started his pitch, I told him I knew about the HRC and my support and I was gay. He thanked me and told me that he was gay too. I said, ‘Yeah, I thought you looked familiar’. They laughed and I walked away.

And now, pics. Somehow I took 91 of them.
♫You’ll only see a portion or a slice, slightly warm, but very very nice. ♪

Max and Bruce’s forehead

‘It’s not a tie, it’s an albatross’

“No, down here…”

Bootay on a bike

“…and it’s Grey Suit in the front…followed by Euro Tourist with Richard Griffiths bringing up the rear….”

“..What’s he wearing? Ball cap, olive tshirt, carpenters pants, work boots….he’s 29, versatile…”

I figured if I stood in front of this window looking forlorn, someone would buy me this suit.

There’s a few more pics. I’ll be posting others in the Photos page. Please check them out.

Sixty Years On

So happy it’s Thursday. I like that acronym. And I am thankful to Thor for it is his day, in his chariot pulled by goats, son of one eyed Odin, half brother of Loki. You can thank or blame Marvel Comics for that. I’ve always loved mythology but I admit my bias towards the Mediterranean gods, Greek, Roman and Judeo Christian. Greek and Roman myths are more interesting to me at least, and that may be from over exposure to the Judeo Christian myths. Today has been a relatively calmer day, politics wise personally. Not fired up like yesterday, then again I hadn’t read the papers online in depth.

Last night, was chill out time again. Watched Ric Burns series on World War 2 on PBS. I keep missing the first hour since it’s on the same time as the Daily Show and the Colbert Report and both last night were really great broadcasts. I’ve noticed Fuck Snooze is going to run a show to start beating the drums of war louder for Iran. According to the commercial, they have sleeper cells here in the states. Plans to use Iraq as a base for an attack on Iran. Where will the money come from? And where will the personnel come from? Such a mess.

After Ric Burns, there was more WW2 only this time was focused on New Yorkers. By that time I was a zombie and it was just background noise with voices from Canarsie, Sheepshead Bay. Classic old time New York voices. Apparently when I’m not arguing about the war, I’m watching newsreel footage from over 60 years ago. The world’s a mess. It’s always been a mess. Now it’s really a big mess that will require a lot of cleaning up. That’s putting it nicely.

Work was ok today. Vivek, Tom Chin and Desi Gandoo flew down to Orlando for the day. That’s the flight I booked yesterday. Landed this morning and they should be back tonight, around 9:00 in Newark. The office was quiet. Going through resumes, only a trickle. Trying to go alternate routes rather than to go through an agency. Trying to save some money for the company. My eye, is on the bottom line. Sent a general email to various friends, got a couple of replies. Dreading having to interview someone, but then again I’m sure I can find some interview pointers online somewhere.

The part of midtown where I work, Turtle Bay, has calmed down considerable Ahmenijhad and Bush both left town taking their big muscular security forces with them. So there weren’t as many to take pictures of. I can’t believe the responses I got from my comment last night about fashion photography. It was definitely eye opening, and makes me consider different options, so for that I thank you all. That’s basically it for tonight. Just going to watch Ugly Betty, My Name is Earl, and The Office, all season premieres. I’ll more than likely comment on that tomorrow. I’m tired. Good night and Good Luck.

Oh yeah, some pics. Only a few though.

Nice suit. His glasses had no sides, they just perched on his nose!

Very hot, but had 3 tear drops tattooed by his eye….

“Yeah. Teardrops. Three of them…”

“So, you live around here…?”

“Three teardrops?”


I Found Out

Middle of the week. The humpiest of days. Feeling pretty good though now I’m fired up. Had an online chat with Juan about the advertisement regarding General Petraeus. He thinks MoveOn went to far, and basically I think they did just fine. The facts were all there in the text, but people couldn’t get past the headline. Too many confounding words? The ad didn’t bother me one bit and my belief was reinforced when I read the text. It’s all there, MoveOn poking holes in the administrations lies, but people don’t want to see it. This general, put in front of Congress by the administration gets slammed and everyone is up in arms. It’s bullshit. It’s a distraction, soldiers are still being maimed and killed and my congressman Albio Sires voted to condemn the advertisement. Bush, Cheney, Powell lie to the country, lie to the world and there is no condemnation. One advertisement and it’s boo hoo. The left are so mean! Ann Coulter can say whatever she wants and she gets a pass. 3.2 million members of MoveOn do something and fucking democrats get into bed with republicans condemning the advertisement. Juan had a point of the left stooping to the level of the right, but after years of being pushed around by the right and their lies, I think it was the correct thing to do. If I’m like this now, how will I be a year from now? And not for nothing, the chimp in charge has set this whole situation up so that the democrats will have to reinstate a draft for this fiasco. I really hope I’m wrong

Work was ok. Some running around. Had to get my nephew Earl a birthday card and an iTunes gift card. He’s a great kid and deserves a lot, though I don’t live with him and couldn’t tell you if Annemarie and Rex would agree. I do remember when I was 17. I learned the truth at 17, that love was meant for beauty queens. Difficult times for all concerned but not constantly difficult. Life is still pretty sweet when you’re 17 and a beauty queen, but not if you’re merely a queen, trust me. At least it wasn’t in 1979.

Took a walk around again at lunch time and once again took a lot of pics. You think there were a lot yesterday, well I didn’t post them all. Also posted a few times at the Daily News website and almost got flamed by tedirene. It was all about Bill O’Reilly. I actually sort of defended him by stating his comments sounded like someone who’s only contact with black people and contact is through television and that there were a lot of people like that. I was one of the many I admit. Black people weren’t demons per se, but regarded as inferior when I was growing up. Racist neighbors, occasional use of the dreaded N word around the house, along with faggot and queer. My first ‘real’ contact with black people was when I was working at HBJ and eventually became great friends with Jet who was black. So basically I was ignorant. I even asked Jet a few ignorant questions about black people who had no answer and educated me on how ignorant I could be. At least I asked, looked like an idiot doing so, but I found out.

That’s about it. Daily Show from last night is on now, and the first 8 minutes are brilliant. Eff that, the whole show is BRILLIANT.

Here’s some pics, so shaddup.
No more Taj Mahal, now it’s DeliverNow

This cutie knew I was taking his picture

This one didn’t

Outside the Waldorf Astoria where Bush was staying

“OMG! I almost wore the same thing!”

“OMG! I almost wore the same thing!”

These guys were HOT. Woof!

He was handsome

John Ozed almost wore the same thing

Black Panthers!
OMG! We DID wear the same thing!

Cigar Smoker (secret handshake with accompanying cough not pictured)

Thinking about what to wear tomorrow

“So, what are you going to wear tomorrow?”

I think I should be a male fashion photographer. Whaddaya say?

Gates of Steel

Tuesday again. Blah blah blah. Spent the night solo again, no Ciara in the house. Who is Ciara? You got me. Just a name snapped out of the ether I suppose. I watched The new show, Chuck, last night and I liked it somewhat. Good premise, would have been better if the guy was totally clueless though, instead of a glimpse of Chuck being on the edge of finding things out. I guess they will stretch that out for the rest of the season. Most of the scenes from the commercials for Chuck were on the first episode so perhaps they have their work cut out for them.

Heroes came on after that and that was pretty good. The episode takes place four months later after the season finale which makes sense since it was basically four months ago. The show was briefly interrupted by Harpy playing the role of angry drunk. That was cute for about a minute, but I wanted to watch the show. Harpy has a blog. Maybe he should write his rants there. Harpy is usually a happy drunk and seemed annoyed that I wanted to watch Heroes rather than listen to his slurring. But I still loves me my Harpy. Plus he’s a dynamite editor and Heroes was pretty good. Hayden Panettiere is going to be a big star I bet, Milo Ventimiglia has gotten hotter even though he was only in the last five minutes and the mind reading cop is still cute.

After that it was an easy slide into Weeds which was of course great. I love all the characters on the show and I think Mary Kate Olsen is doing a pretty good job as the pothead saving her vaginal virginity for the man she will marry someday. Like lot’s of girls, oral sex doesn’t count as sex. As long as the hymen is intact all is good and she can still wear white on her wedding day. Interesting sexual tension between Nancy, played by the excellent Mary Louise Parker and the Latino gang banger who wanted his heroin back. He was nasty hot.

Then it was Californication with David Duchovny. I like the show more with each episode, good stories mainly, though the subplot with the bald guy and his secretary and his wife was a bit thin. With Duchovny I can take him or leave him. He does work well with strong women though. Hey keep playing the line from the first episode where he’s dreaming about being in a church with a black Jesus on the cross, where he goes, ‘High Five’ to the crucifix. Tacky and forced it was.

After that it was the dreadful mundane news, and since Otis Livingstone was not giving out the sports report I went to bed. Slept well, woke up and went to work. The bus was running late and that made me a bit late. Still I was the first one in the office. I did walk past the hotels where the diplomats and heads of state were staying and surreptitiously took some pics of them. The guards weren’t as big and beefy as yesterday but still a few of them looked good in their suits and ties and wires going into their ears.

Work was ok, still getting busy which is fine by me. Had to book a flight, hang some photographs and other sundry tasks that I juggle most every day. Had a salad for lunch and then walked around midtown taking pictures of protesters, police and various groups around Turtle Bay. When I came back, Carla the receptionist cornered me and handed me her letter of resignation. She got a job at Foot Locker. Not the store, but the corporate offices. Carla graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology and wanted a job with a clothing manufacturer and Foot Locker made an offer. I doubt it will be like working where she is now, with me but it’s her life, her choice and I wish her the very best. Now I have to find a replacement by October 10. If you know someone, contact me pronto!

Got my Arcade Fire/LCD Soundsystem/Blonde Redhead/Les Savy Fav tickets for October 6 at Randal Island and while I spoke to brother Frank on the phone today, it seemed like he might be up for the show which would be cool.
The chimp in charge’s motorcade sped past my building. Ronald Reagan drove by my parents house in the early eighties, which makes me think these idiot commanders in chief are practicing a drive by on me.

And now quite a few pics.

Insecurity details



Outside where Bush is staying





where Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is staying

Falun Gong

Police Line Do Not Cro

The motorcade sped on

Hardcore Security

Dapper Gent

The return of the Taj Mahal in Bryant Park

Work it, Girls!

Chicks on the loose

Guys smoking cigars

Blurry cutie

Stage Door

Garage Door

The End

Neat Neat Neat

Yes it’s Monday again. As if you didn’t know that already. Granted maybe you’ve just stumbled into this blog and if that’s the case, please take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway. I know everyone else has their shoes on, but they were here first and it’s a new rule. Oh don’t give me that look. It’s not like it’s Ciara’s birthday. Who’s Ciara? You got me. Just pulled it out of a hat. Maybe Ciara is just bait, or better yet, chum. We’ll see about that soon enough. But it’s Monday like I said, big whoop.

Last night Bill was here. He was exhausted and thought he was coming down with something. He plopped on the couch and after an hour he went from a sniffle to being a full blown head of mucous. Poor thing didn’t last too long after that. Not even the brownies I baked for him could keep him awake and you know he tried by eating half the pan. I didn’t like them and I figured out it wasn’t the eggs last time, it wasn’t the mixing bowl, made in China, which I threw out. No, it’s either the cooking spray I used, or quite possibly the Pillsbury brownie mix. Bill liked them enough, and like I said I didn’t.

I watched Curb Your Enthusiasm and of course felt Larry David is an asshole. A funny asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. Certainly makes me uncomfortable to watch yet I do watch every chance I can. It is like watching an R rated Seinfeld episode sometimes. Then I watched a bit of a documentary on World War 2 again. There really was nothing else on. I was waiting for the news at 11:00 and that was not worth waiting for. Not at all.

I woke up next to Bill, who’s forehead was quite warm. He wasn’t going to work today, and he sounded terrible. I had to go to work and I did my thing. Soon I was bending over the bed, checking Bill’s temperature once again, still warm. I gave him a peck on the cheek and then I was on the street recovering the building’s garbage cans which were scattered up and down the block. I don’t know if anyone would have done it if I didn’t. I do it most days anyhow and never tried to find out. Perhaps tomorrow I will.

Got into the city in no time and spotted a replica of the Taj Mahal in Bryant Park. The next few days are Indian cultural days hence the replica. I made my way to the office passing many police on most corners and big bodyguards in suits outside the various hotels I walked by. I would have taken some pictures but they were fairly intimidating. I do plan to take some tomorrow if I have the nerve. All over the east side of midtown there were police, guards and protesters.

Yellow school buses parked in front of my office building unloading hundreds of yarmulke wearing boys and girls wearing clothes that covered most of their bodies. They were all headed to Dag Hammarskjold park to protest the president of Iran coming to town and to state that Israel was not going anywhere. Forget about the displaced Palestinians, fuck them in fact. No, Israel having been set up almost 60 years ago has earned the right to bully and squash anyone who disagrees with them.

There were a few other protesters lounging about, having screamed what they wanted to say, like ’10 out of 10 terrorists recommend voting for the democrats’. Fat fucking Faux news watchers I call them. What do you call them, Ciara?

Here’s some pics.

The Taj Mahal replica


street scene 50th and Lexington

NYPD Watch tower and antennae 50th and Park

Handsome guy

Here Come the police


another cute dude

Guardian Angles (Curtis Sliwa is at the front waving to people who aren’t waving to him)

Vietnamese protestors

Buddhist monk next to a christian for Israel

The terrorist’s favorite pollster

The first place I worked at in Manhattan 25 years ago, loading dock for 757 Third Avenue

Epistle To Dippy

Sunday Sunday Sunday. No churchy la femme for me. A beautiful day though. Comfortable, around 70 degrees, blue cloudless sky. It almost makes me think somethings going to happen. Perhaps that a hangover from 9/11. Nice days mean trouble. Low flying planes mean trouble. That guy on the street over there means trouble. I go looking for trouble and I just have to open my eyes. Nah, it’s not that bad. So far today has been a trouble free day. Of course I haven’t turned on the news, but it’s a day of sports so the news might not be on at 6:00.

Last night I did very little. I watched Jesus Camp, which I rented through Netflix. I forgot it was in my queue and I watched it. It was pretty creepy this woman out in the Midwest preparing young children to start a christian jihad and to praise a cardboard cut out (at least I think it was. Who can tell?) of the chimp in charge. Oh these kids, towing the line, speaking in tongues. I was relatively religious when I was a kid, going to catholic school and all, but obviously I grew out of that, thanks to my catholic schooling. One year in high school I had to write a paper on the Lutheran religion. And I found myself agreeing with a lot of what Martin Luther had written. That threw my catholicism headed towards doubt. Then as I went through life, thinking for myself and meeting different people with different ideas and backgrounds made me wonder if none of us were right.

Jesus Camp is worth seeing if only to see Ted Haggard, famed for his Monday morning phone calls with the chimp in charge as well as buying crystal methamphetamine and soliciting a male escort. It’s the creepiest!

I wound up watching Nature on PBS. It was about Hippos in Africa, as if they would be anywhere else. Interesting show, had no idea that hippos were so aggressive, and not the pink dancing hippos doing ballet in tu tu’s. They can run and spend a lot of time under water. They are impressive creatures and I would get out of they’re way should a pod of them come headed in your direction.

Then I got sucked into watching How The Earth Was Made on the History Channel. I never watch the history channel so I guess I’m bound to repeat it. Narrated by Edward Herrman, I was totally taken in. Of course, me being skeptical I kept in mind that it’s all guess work, and by guess work it’s theory. To describe something happening 1.5 Billion years ago, how this happened and what that as like, in this day and age with the equipment we have now, we don’t really know. I believe it more than creationism (duh) but geological history from way way way way way etc back then, I don’t think we could really know.

It’s the same thing with the Universe. We don’t know. Our tiny minds on this planet, guessing what’s going on many light years away, we don’t have a clue. The theories are better than nothing but subject to change. I do believe that everything is connected, every thing, every one, everywhere is related. From rocks to plants to animals to air to space to planets, it flows on within you and without you. Oh so groovy like.

It’s funny, watching the Earth show on the History Channel that when they go from something occurring 1 billion years ago to something 100 Million years ago, I think ‘oh that was so recent.’ Like it was last year or so.

Here’s is a link for Keith Olbermann, who sometimes I can’t take. I do think he’s right on the money on this one though (he usually is on the money, but his delivery can be so Keith Olbermann). It has a video and a transcript of the video.
Cut n’ paste

Today is the first day of Autumn.

Pretty Vacant

Saturday. It seems I write that a lot. Can’t say it’s been a lazy Saturday because it hasn’t been. Been busy. Up at 9:00 and out at 9:30 to help Bill out with something at the post office, though in retrospect he could have done it by himself. But being retrospective is so overrated sometimes that it’s not worth a mention, but now it’s too late since I’ve mentioned it already. Bill and I parted ways outside the post office, he headed into the city, me back to the apartment after one or two stops.

Last night I was just chilling at home, watching TV. Wound up watching the Song Remains The Same. The Led Zeppelin In Concert movie with dreadful flights of fancy for each member of the band. Robert Plant as a knight of sorts, Jimmy Page as a wizard. No wait an old man. No wait. Cheesy effects definitely aimed at a midnight movie crowd tripping on acid. Bill came home towards the end and was amazed at the size of the outline of Robert Plant’s cock. When life gives you lemons, squeeze the lemon till the juice drips down your leg. Or make lemonade. One or the other. Or both.

Bill Maher was on after that and it was entertaining somewhat. Bill Maher did score points with me describing his atheism as rationalism. I think it was around the results of a poll this week about a certain percentage of eligible voters would not vote for a candidate that didn’t believe in a higher power, aka god. Maher flipped it and said how can you vote for a candidate that believes in this invisible mythical being? If one believes in judgment day should they be put in a position to actually bring about judgment day? After all that thinking I was tired and went to bed.

I came home after parting ways with Bill, had some breakfast and started doing some chores, laundry and getting the ladder from Julio. I went downstairs and talked to Stine for a few minutes and came back with a ladder. Soon enough I was on top of that ladder trying to figure out how to open the light fixture. Normally Julio would be watching initially then fed up with my ineptitude, would yell at me, telling me to get off the ladder while he did the work. Alas, there was no Julio, just sweaty me. I finally figured out how to get the fixture open only to find, not 4 fluorescent bulbs to be changed, but 2. 2 U shaped light bulbs about 2 feet long.

I did what Julio mentioned last night, about taking the lights from the fixture that works and using them in the other one to see if it’s the lights or the fixture that needs changing. I had to do that a could of times, not that I mixed up what light bulbs worked or not, just to give myself some peace of mind. It suddenly started to rain outside so I just waited for it to rain before I headed to the hardware store. I was smart enough to write down what I needed since my mind usually gets erased when I go to hardware stores. I didn’t see the bulbs on the floor or on display so I had to ask for them. Very hush hush cold war stuff which is timely since that’s the mindset of this country these days.

It took awhile but I got the job done and didn’t fall off the ladder once. So it was the lights that needed changing, the fixture is fine. I also learned that one light won’t work by itself, you need two. Is that a metaphor?

And now we know the answer to the question. One.

From This Moment On

It’s Friday! It’s Yom Kippur! Atone for your sins! Do it now, I can wait! Done yet? Jeezy Creezy, you got a lot on your chest, of this I am sure. It was a good day, though here was tremendous difficulty waking up this morning. Just felt so good to be sleeping and aware that I was sleeping. But I had to get up and I woke up to a great song, Kiss on My List by Hall and Oates. A great pop song, gets it’s happiness across quite nicely. Ok hopefully you are done with your atoning, but if you were actually observing Yom Kippur, you wouldn’t be reading this until tomorrow. I think you’d be sitting in the dark because that is what god wants you to do. That is when god is not telling you what to eat, what to wear, who to sleep with, you know crap like that. Stuff that deities fill their days with, such busy bodies they be.

Last night, had a fun phone call from Harpy, editor emeritus. I’m serious, out of all five readers, Harpy really is the only one who comes through with ideas and suggestions. You can blame Harpy for not reading about my bagel intake anymore. Not that I wrote about it often, bagel eating that is. But Harpy did what he does best, he harped on it and I followed his lead, hence no more reading about bagels, though maybe over the weekend, since that’s when I get my bagels generally. Yes I still eat ’em, I just don’t write about ’em.

Got to work, only one in though Carla was in a half hour early. Half the office was out once again and it wasn’t for the holiday. I didn’t mind and neither did Carla. There was some work to be done and once again I was done with my tasks by 11:30. One of the tasks was to get some signs made for our elevator lobby, to let people know what company is on that floor. You know, stupid stuff. Since it is a financial company, it has to have some class and professionalism and that meant no glitter. It was a drag but thems the rules.

They didn’t say anything about elbow macaroni spray painted gold with cotton balls framing the edges. I figured Popsicle sticks would have been too over the top so I didn’t go that route. I made some dummy copies which were roundly rejected by anyone with half a brain. Dejected and rejected I searched online for a professional sign maker. I found one with a nice website in Chelsea and plotted the rest of my day.

I called first to make sure they were open and not closed for this the holiest day, and they were open. I decided to leave the office at 3:00 and head down to Chelsea, not returning to the office until Monday. The whole thing, including the subway ride took about 30 minutes and I was back in Hoboken at 4:00, not a bad way to start the weekend.

That’s about it for today. No really. Glad I was able to write this before sundown, aren’t you?

Here’s a video from Randy Pausch, a Carnegie Mellon professor who just gave his final lecture, as he is dying of pancreatic cancer at age 46. His life lessons.

If you enjoyed Part One, follow the links to the following parts.

Up For The Down Stroke

Thursday. Nothing special. Nothing really happened today. But you knew that since you are one of the five that reads this blog semi regularly. If only this was a hard copy you could read it on the toilet, but it’s not and that’s disgusting. Last night was cool, seeing Nick Lowe, seeing Linda again. I was reminded she can be a bit loopy sometimes, but aren’t we all? Say yes. Also took forever last night to post 2 youtube videos of ol’ Nick Lowe, so I posted one of Nick singing 7 Nights to Rock last night, posted What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace Love and Understanding this morning. I gave up since I was tired and coming down like helter skelter after only three pints of Guinness. At my age indeed. That’s the name of Nick Lowe’s last record.

Slept like a rock last night, and woke up refreshed, minimal internal voice whining about not wanting to go. I’m pretty sure my mood can be attributed to the change of seasons. This time of year you know. I never can seem to shake this sinking feeling so I just hold my breath as I go under again. Just a bit nerve wracked. Last night Greg Stevens hosted a meeting for some big wigs and I had to set up a conference call, but messed up. There were two passwords and I entered the wrong one. It may have made Greg look bad. I also messed up an earlier meeting for Greg when I got lunch for 5 a little too late. Like ’15 minutes before the meeting ended’ late. He would have every reason to be pissed off, or even angry since Greg Stevens isn’t the type to get pissed off. But he let it slide, letting me know next time to order the food earlier and let it sit if need be. Nice guy that Greg. His feathers don’t get ruffled too easily. He accepted my apology.

It’s was quite a warm day and being a few blocks away from the United Nations building the streets are getting tightened up, more control. The president of Iran wants to visit the World Trade Center site and lay a wreath in memoriam for the victims. Flash point! So many people are against it, I say let him go, just keep a close eye on him. And then there’s the bullshit about the advert calling General Petraeus a liar. Oh the right wing are up in arms about that. So much shit going on and they’re afraid that mere words would harm a four star general. These fucking distractions.

And then there is Kathy Griffin who I am fairly ambivalent about, but found her Suck It Jesus comment after winning an Emmy award to be hilarious. And the religious right are greatly upset, spending $90,000 on an ad in USA Today complaining that once again christianity was under attack. Oh they’re on the ropes those christians. I expect them to be totally converted to atheism any day now. Forget about helping the poor and the sick and the homeless, because Jesus would have totally spent that money on an advert after being dissed by Kathy Griffin.

I think the world would be a much better place if all four Beatles were alive.

here’s a blast from the past.
I loved this when I was a kid. Totally bananas and surreal.
The Kid From Borneo

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Human Touch

Wednesday night. Just got home. Saw Nick Lowe at 7 World Trade Center. Last of the summer time concerts downtown. It’s been a crazy kind of day. Not bad crazy, no one wishing me a painful death or anything like that. Just busy, but it was more manageable than it was yesterday since Carla the receptionist came back from North Carolina today, looking somewhat refreshed and somewhat tan. A few meetings going on, signaling that the summer season for investment banking is over, and things are slowly picking up steam. I don’t mind. I have more things to do, more things than what I have had since I started working in April.

Last night, after I posted, bemoaning my fate, singing Bobby Vinton’s Mr. Lonely, Harpy called with words of support. Harpy reads the blog. Julio came by also, and he doesn’t read the blog. It was good to hear from Harpy and good to see Julio. Julio is going to lend me a ladder so I could fix a light fixture. That means, Julio will bring a ladder upstairs and he will fix whatever the problem is since he loves to do that sort of thing and knows I’m all thumbs when it comes to things like fixing stuff.

I had the foresight last week to remind myself that Nick Lowe was doing a free show tonight. For some reason I thought of Linda from McMann and Tate and sent her an email asking her if she would like to join me. To my surprise she replied and said she would love to join me. I hadn’t seen her since the holiday party so I was looking forward to it. Today seemed to be a day of faces from the past. At one point this afternoon I had to go to the bank and as I was crossing Park Avenue I ran into Brenda who I worked with at Wanker Banker and had cocktails with her a few weeks ago. That was a pleasant surprise and we chatted and strolled around for a few minutes.

Greg Stevens had a major big wig pow wow this evening at 5:00 so I stayed a little bit late to help set up, leaving before it ended so Carla could get some overtime and I could head downtown. Trains were messed up as usual so I was a little late. Somehow I was able to get phone reception at the Spring Street station and I called Linda to let her know I was running a bit late. We met up and she mentioned a few things about McMann and Tate, specifically that Mina Theta was asking for me. I told Linda she must have me confused with someone else since I never had more than three minutes of conversation with her, and that was at the holiday party right before I left. Linda got upset with my unhappy memory and decided to change the subject to nothing. I had to carry the rest of the conversation.

After a few pints we walked two blocks to 7 World Trade Center where the Holmes Brothers were finishing up their set. We walked around, Linda and I trying to find an unobstructed view. Found one that turned out to be right next to Dana Penny and Kathleen Kenney. Yes, those are their real names. They’ve been together for about twenty years or so. Old Hoboken heads from another life. It was a brief chat, introductions all around, then Nick Lowe started his set and they shut up.

Nick did a good set. I do miss him playing with a band but he did just fine on his own. A short set and I was home a little after 9:00. As I was getting my stuff together, I saw a familiar face, once bearded, now just a moustache. I figured if I was wrong, I would be wrong, so I took a chance and said, Doug Schwartz. It was Doug Schwartz who seemed surprised to see me, especially in a suit and tie. He looked good and we parted ways, Linda walking to her uptown train, me headed to the Path.

Bill at his folks, me at home, coming down from three pints of Guinness. Not so lonely after all.


Linda and Me

Nick Lowe


hidden bonus vid

What’s So Funny (About Peace Love and Understanding?)


Is it me? Or is it just Tuesday? Last night was a rather heavy scene, Bill and I talking in measured, quiet tones after starting off yelling at each other. Where are we? Where is this relationship going? Where did our love go? It’s that time of year I tell ya. In between our falling out in 2005 and an anniversary of sorts, 7 years at the end of September for us. Things got better and we talked about cleaning out the apartment. A project we both have to do together. I have no problem with that since I’m basically always here. He’s the one with a schedule so it’s all up to him. We discussed how he hates climbing four flights of stairs, and it can be a bear, though it takes me about 30 seconds to do it, my knees aren’t in the bad shape that Bill’s are.

I mentioned how lonely I am. I yearn to have an intelligent conversation with someone, face to face, over a pint and a smoke maybe. No one is around. Julio’s married and incommunicado, Pedro doing his thing, Juan on Mars, Jeezy Creezy even Harpy has someone. I miss watching the news and discussing topics with people. And I wish I had someone to talk to about the situation that Bill and I are in. No, don’t suggest therapy since I’ve already been down that route and left dissatisfied. Maybe it’s a momentary thing.

Bill went to bed, I wrote last night’s entry. And I felt bad, bad enough to go in and give him a good night kiss and tell him how I loved him. I really do, he’s a good guy and I can’t imagine him not being in my life. Relationships are hard work and perhaps we’ve both didn’t hold up our ends, then looking and accusing the other of doing what the other is doing, or rather not doing. I tried to make amends somewhat and ordered some flowers for him to be delivered today. 1800Flowers in case you were wondering.

Work was busy again, and not a good busy like yesterday. Today had a few guests and I had to set up lunch and do both my job as well as Carla’s job. She’s due back tomorrow and Millie is persona non grata. After setting up lunch I had to clean it all up. Luckily the people I work with aren’t the god damned oily wolves that I worked with at McMann and Tate, so the clean up wasn’t so bad.

I kept checking the website for 1800Flowers throughout the day and it’s probably still refreshing itself. No definite answers from that waste of time. I came home and wrote this after talking with Becky out in the cornfields ( I should have ordered corn instead) who told me the problem of the missing flowers won’t be settled until tomorrow. So much for same day delivery.

You have a horrible website, and flowers ordered at 8:50AM cannot make it across town by the close of business. what a scam you are running. I am thoroughly disappointed in your ‘company’ and I will do my best to dissuade my family and friends as well as colleagues from ever patronizing your ‘organization’ ever again. Once again you have a horrible, lousy operation and your website is a waste of cyberspace. I expect some sort of response as well as compensation, since I paid extra to have them delivered the same day. Feel free to blame the florist.

That gave me very little satisfaction. I even asked Becky if someone wants same day delivery, maybe it might be better to call the night before. Do yourself a favor and never call 1800Flowers.

I am also sick and tired of the right wing assholes in this country. They should all go to the place they believe so much in, hell.

And here are some pics.
a pool set up for dogs in Bryant Park

and at the end of the day

and now, me

Sorry Song, all the used hot water heaters are gone.

Two Tribes

It’s been a Monday, that’s for sure. Last night I got sucked into watching the Emmys though I really wasn’t paying much attention. I read about the show today and found myself saying, ‘oh, that’s what they were talking about’. I got a phone call from Carla the receptionist last night. She’s in North Carolina visiting her family for some function. She called to let me know that Millie, her friend that sat in for Carla on Friday, and scheduled to work for her on Monday and Tuesday, wasn’t coming in on either day due to some female trouble. That was a drag to find out on Sunday night, but I’m sure it beats hearing it on Monday morning at work.

Oddly enough I didn’t let it bother me too much. Sure it took up some space on the hard drive in my head, but there were Emmys to ignore. And I had just activated my iTunes gift card that Annemarie, Rex and Earl had gotten me for my birthday and you know, I just had to have that 12” remix of Perfect by The The. Songs by Matt Johnson, also known as, The The has been popping into my head like perfect mushrooms and I hadn’t really heard them in quite a long time. Except for TV commercials. This Is The Day is being used for a car commercial I think. But Perfect is as nearly a perfect song from the eighties like no other.

In fact, so perfect is Perfect I held off playing it until I got midway to work this morning. I turned on the iPod at the corner of 42nd and Fifth. It got me as far as 49th and Park. The song is 8:59 or thereabouts. Since I was dressed in a sharkskin suit or a reasonable facsimile thereof, I upped the ante and played Peter Gunn by The Art of Noise. I felt good and I looked good which is remarkable because after all it was a Monday morning. It was, how you say, perfect?

I got to the office and since I knew I would have no support I would have to do everything on my own today and I didn’t mind. It meant I would be busy, like I hadn’t been since I started. Carla is always doing things and I supervise which is ok, but boring really. Actually I’m doing the things I loathed doing when I was at McMann and Tate and Golden Staffing, but then again this is only for a day or two, not a real commitment.

Being busy meant the day would fly by and it certainly did. I was out at 5:00 on the dot, and of course, had my Padron ready to go as I backtracked and played Perfect, followed again by Peter Gunn with some Beat Box thrown in, also by The Art of Noise. Got the bus, went back to Hoboken, shopped at the A&P and came home to have a slight row with Bill. It got heated, then calmed down considerably. That time of year I guess. Has anything been resolved? No. We will talk again, but will we listen? Whatever it is, it certainly chilled out the apartment this evening. He’ll be at his mom’s tomorrow and I’ll be here and the problem will fade into the background until it pops up again next year.

Here’s some pics of what I looked like today. I think I was, no not perfect, but in a word, Bangin’.

Would you buy a used water heater from this man?

Itchycoo Park

Last night Juan came over. We hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks. Unfortunately it was anti-climactic. I was way too jazzy, jazzy enough to not notice until I had to interact with others. Juan was way too tired. I threw in What’s Up Tiger Lily and it got a chuckle from Juan but I think I had seen it enough times, not needing to see it again any time soon. He left almost immediately after the movie ended and I fell asleep soon after. Solo, Bill was at his moms.

Here are some notes from today.

Bus to NYC
Listened to Cat Stevens ‘Peace Train’ and Cheap Trick ‘Surrender’ Headed to the Whitney Museum for the last day of the psychedelic exhibition that brother Frank told me about a few weeks ago. It’s called the Summer of Love and he highly recommended it, though he wasn’t high since he doesn’t do that anymore.

It all depends if I get in though. This could be a repeat of the Jean Michel Basquiat show that Roda and I tried to go see on it’s last day at the Brooklyn Museum a couple of years ago. We waited until the last day and found that it was too crowded, one hour wait to get on another line. We gave up and decided that Basquiat wouldn’t be waiting on line at a museum, so we wandered into the park finding the drummer’s circle. There’s a few other things that Basquiat would do instead but we’re not that type.

In any event, I plan on walking through Central Park afterwards. I have Jazz, my camera, Monte Cristo cigars that were given to me as a gift the other day by Carla the receptionist, Tom Chin and Greg Stevens.

Some woman is letting her little girl run up and down the length of the bus as it’s moving while the woman sits up front chatting on her cellphone. If the girl is injured could there be a lawsuit?

Now in Central Park
Well I was right. The line at the Whitney was around the block. The price of procrastination and the twist is all these procrastinators got there before me! If I was with someone I’d probably get on line, but I’m solo ad just can’t deal with it, but at least I made the effort and got out of the apartment.

Now I sit by the bandshell in Central Park, having come in through the Rambles, only looking for a cool spot to get jazzy, honestly. There was no clear spot so I improvised before my paranoia got the best of me. Tons of tourists walking around everywhere in the park on this cool, relatively clear Sunday afternoon.

It’s fairly early, they haven’t set up for the skate circle yet, not that I skate. Oh no thank you. I thought I missed it, or it was over for the season but I am just a bit early. They’re sound checking as I write this.

One thing is for sure, I’m definitely not as horned up as I was last weekend.

Adults on Razor Scooters. I don’t understand it and it makes them look absurd which is fine by me.
Clammy in Central Park. A bit sweaty and now I’m clammy, or is it just my t-shirt?

Back on the bus
Checked out the skate circle and shot some video. Got jazzy and smoked a Monte Cristo walked through the park feeling good. Made it through Times Square which is also overrun by tourists on weekends.

here’s some pics and some vids

Some sort of Mexico day today

Ramble trees

Just as the bottle hit…

The Train Is Coming

Pretty much a boring Saturday. It’s definitely cooler out weather wise, major droppage in temperature.

Here’s something from a journal, written about 12 years ago.

Went on a boat ride last night. I went on one last year with a Guyanese Social Club. This year, the same social club but with a difference. Last year the boat went up and down the Hudson River. This year it remained docked.. The seemed to have sold too many tickets. There were way too many people there. I was supposed to go last week but chickened out at the last minute. When I heard in Monday what a great time was had and what I missed and how everyone was asking for me, I resolved to go this week.

After touch and go negotiations with Marcus, it was decided to meet at the Circle Line Pier 83 at 7-7:30. I got there at 7:15 and immediately wish I had brought a jacket. The sun was sinking behind the Palisades and into the Meadowlands and with the river breezes and the upcoming fall of night I was certain it was going to get colder. I was also carrying two bottles of champagne while I wandered around waiting for Marcus.

My paranoid mind was playing tricks on me, thinking that since I backed out at the last minute last week, Marcus was going to do the same to me. I had forgotten that Marcus was always late. First thing you learn is that you always have to wait, and I’m waiting for my man Marcus. I expected that and as I lingered around the edge of the Guyanese crowd Marcus made an appearance at around 8:30.

That shows how my mind operates, revenge, retribution, retaliation and I expected Marcus to be the same way. But no, he kept his word, just his usual late self. Something I should learn to do or since I know, to do!

“I saw you before you saw me” Marcus said upon greeting me. I was sure of that since I was basically the only Caucasian in the area that didn’t work for the Circle Line. Marcus came with Jesse who was parking the car.

I was wearing a white cotton Gap shirt, baggy blue jeans and my tan suede Na Na Doc Marten boots that I bought for 15.00 in Soho. Marcus was wearing a Brown and Tan baseball cap with a tiger/leopard/zebra print on it, a silk shirt and tan pants. Jesse was looking like a rock star with round mirrored shades white t shirt, white denim jacket and white jeans.

Like I said, the boat never left the pier, too many people would make it unsafe. At one point due to overcrowding, the police arrived with dogs snapping at the party goers. Totally uncalled for. All the Guyanese women were flirting with me, thinking I was a rich American guy looking for a Guyanese wife.

The music wasn’t roots reggae, more dancehall oriented. I understood Joe Strummer singing White Man in the Hammersmith Palais, about expecting to here revolutionary reggae and instead getting a slick floor show.

Here’s some pics….

RoDa and Bill

and now, me, today. feeling artsy

the moody bastard

I Am The Fly

Oh it’s Friday and I am so happy about that. Just a really up and down week. A roller coaster of sorts. I am also glad the birthday is behind me. Don’t want to deal with that again, at least not for another year. Pretty tired right now, despite sleeping well last night. Perhaps too well. Great difficulty waking up this morning even though I woke up at 6:00, I could have used another hour. And I went to bed earlier than usual last night. Just a very quiet night at home, alone. No phone calls except for brother Frank which lasted a minute since one of his favorite TV shows was about to start. Yes, brother Frank is on the mend.

The other night, Bill and I watched United 93. The one that was released in the movie theaters last year. Mainly unknown actors playing the passengers and hijackers. Quite intense of course. By the end Bill and I were ready to kick some terrorist ass, but there weren’t any in the apartment so we went to bed. I’m sure I had some crazy intense dreams following that but due to the jazz soundtrack playing behind my red eyes, I didn’t remember them. It could account for my crap mood on Wednesday though.

On Wednesday night we watched Looking For Langston by Isaac Julien. It’s only 42 minutes long, but it’s quite good, very artsy. All about the Harlem Renaissance in the 1920’s juxtaposed with black gay culture in the 1980’s. It was dedicated to James Baldwin. Not for everyone, but if you’re so inclined I recommend it.

Last night I didn’t know what to watch and wound up watching a series on the 1940’s on PBS. I enjoyed it somewhat. It was almost a glimpse into my parents lives. I watched part one and while waiting for part two the chimp in charge had to make a speech about how well the war is going. It’s not going well and the best thing to do is to bring the troops home. But that’s not what the idiot will do. He might bring them home next summer. What an asshole. I hate him so much. It was strange to watch Roosevelt rallying people at home to fight in world war two, then to watch the chimp saying shit and not rallying anyone except for the felchers behind him.

Surprisingly enough, they did mention after the idiot speech, about how the troops came home after the war, changed from who they were before the war. They came home and drank, abused their spouses and didn’t talk about what they saw or did. They certainly didn’t talk about it at the VFW or the American Legion. They drank a lot and tried to forget. I can’t remember that being brought up before in other World War Two documentaries.

On TV, they just showed a clip of Tony Snow leaving the White House, good of him to wipe the jism off his chin. And here I thought he swallowed.

That’s it. I’m tired.

Under The Milky Way

Well it’s the day after the first sober birthday I’ve had in quite a while. After the fiasco at Arthur’s steakhouse in Hoboken, Bill and I did some food shopping and came home. We talked about the sauce pan, I neglected to mention that it was designed by Damien Hirst, he of Shark in Formaldehyde Tank and Diamond Encrusted Skull fame.

Here’s a pic of Hirst’s Diamond Skull.

It cost Bill a pretty penny and here I was being ungrateful. I felt terrible about that and of course did all the backpedaling that I could but really the horse was out of the stable so there was no use in closing the gate. Looking back I can’t believe my behavior and I apologized for it. I mentioned to Bill that a few years ago we had a fight. One year he decided not to celebrate or recognized Valentine’s Day. Previous years we did but this particular year we didn’t though not on my part. I told him that he didn’t have to go to any great length to get me something, ‘you could give me a button and I would think it was the best button in the world!’ But when it came down to balls to the wall, a saucepan wasn’t up to snuff.

I eventually got over it, hoping that I didn’t hurt Bill’s feelings. It’s just that in the past couple of months, he was making noises about how I should get a video camera since he felt that I can handle a digital camera with relative ease, and I actually thought that I would be getting a new camera, or a new iPod or some sort of flashy gadget that Bill is so fond of. But he’s been having some money problems, which I didn’t know about since we don’t share finances.

It reminded me of a certain Xmas when I was living at my parents house, and I was hoping to get a Walkman for a holiday present. The time came and when I opened the box, there was no Walkman. My father thought I was an idiot and would wear it while crossing railroad tracks, not hearing the oncoming train and would be killed right then and there. He didn’t like me, but he didn’t want me dead apparently. Instead of a Walkman, I got a Sears tape recorder with an AM/FM radio band attached. Not exactly the same thing. Not at all. I was crushed and eventually bought my own Walkman and played exclusively on railroad tracks just to prove a point.

I do love the saucepan and it’s probably the best saucepan in the world. It’s stainless steel so it could make a good weapon should the need arise. You never know when some black-ops are going to be knocking on the door arms full of pasta with no sauce. If they know what’s good for them they had better bring bread. That’s all I ask. Not too much is it?


Yes it’s my birthday and fucking hell has it been a trial. Of course, me being me, drama queen it’s not as bad as all that, or is it? Day started out nice, Bill stayed over so I’d wake up with him and he was giving me a kiss in bed at 6:00 this morning. I enjoyed that. Then Bill was out the door again. As I walked through the apartment, there were birthday cards, three of them each on a box of brownie mix. On top of the stove was a nicely wrapped box with a bow on it. I picked it up and it shook a bit. After the shower, and coffee I opened the box to find a sauce pan. Nice stainless steel sauce pan. Why a sauce pan? I don’t know.

Amazingly it was all I could focus on this morning. I instant messaged Bill when I got to work and he told me the sauce pan was for making brownies, since the last time the other day they came out terribly. From now on, I’ll be able to make brownies in a sauce pan. But I really can’t do that since the sauce pan is too shallow and what I really needed was a mixing bowl, and I really don’t need a mixing bowl. But a sauce pan is nice. Next time I make sauce, meaning next time I open a jar of tomato sauce I will have a pot to…..pour sauce in.

Carla the receptionist was happy because it was my birthday and so were other people who phoned me, Billie, Pedro, Harpy, and of course Annemarie. I even spoke to brother Frank but he didn’t bring up the birthday and neither did I. He has other more important things on his mind than my birthday. Got e-cards and greetings from brother Brian, little Brian, Chaz and William and plenty of good vibrations from Bill. But aspects of my father’s personality were edging around my mind. I realized that and decided to head out for lunch and have a cigar.

I planned to sit on Park Avenue, it was a beautiful day but all the good spots were crowded and I didn’t want to offend anyone with my cigar. I discreetly puffed walking down Park Avenue looking for a spot when about 20 feet behind me, some guy who reminded me of Fred Kleinke, (psycho nerd drip former landlord in Weehawken) shouting about ‘how the fuck could I smoke a cigar?’ Really shouting. People stopped and stared. He walks up to me on his way back to his mail room job and shouts about how his father used to smoke cigars and how it fucked him up. Then he turns and screams at me, “I hope you die a fucking painful death!”

Nice. Happy birthday indeed.

Got back to office and of course things were strange there. I knew Carla was passing around a birthday card for people to sign. I buried myself in my cube, dreading the thought of cake and having to force a smile when I was having difficulty with the world. 5:00 came soon enough, there was no cake. I was glad. Another year without birthday cake is fine with me. Have enough cookies and brownies from Annemarie that cake would be redundant. Carla did snag me at the door and had me follow her to Greg Stevens office where Greg and Tom Chin and Carla gave me a card and a few cigars. That was great. Everyone in the office signed the card and wished me well.

I walked Carla to her train and walked to the bus terminal where some jerk stepped on the back of my shoe. I turned and he gave me the ‘oops! Sorry!’ look, I returned with what was probably one of my father’s death stares. Got off the bus, ran into Roda who I invited over for some jazz before Bill and I headed to Arthur’s for dinner. Bill and I headed over after Roda and my jazz session. There were no outside tables but that was ok, I was hungry. We sat and waited for the waiter who showed up and told us that the credit card machine wasn’t working properly and he was telling us now before we ordered. I turned to Bill and suggested going home and ordering Grimaldi’s pizza and that is where we are now. I’m avoiding the world but if they want to call that’s ok, but I am screening calls.

Bill sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and here are some pics of them.

Thank you Bill and thank you everyone for being my friend.


It’s September 11 again. Remembrances, memorials and moments of silence. The world continues spinning. Overall it’s a sad day. As the years go on, the pain and tears lessen but the occasional pang erupts and eyes moisten. A lot of people took off the day in the city it seemed. Noticeably fewer people on the sidewalks. Today was perfect weather wise for a day like today. Gray and overcast, and quite humid. Could have done without the humidity. Nothing you can do about that just as there is nothing you can do about the past. Just got to move on and take your time while doing so.

Annemarie was right. The eggs are being thrown out though I wish I had someone I disliked enough to throw them at. The White House is too far away, and Cheney’s Chamber of Mystery is too well hidden, so I guess it’s in the trash they will go. I prefer free range eggs myself, but who can turn down 2 and a half dozen free eggs? Not me, obviously. The eggs expired, or actually the last day they could be for sale was September 9, which is the day I made the brownies from hell. I think it was the plastic since that was the taste I could not get out of my mouth, not the eggs. But since the sell by date has come and gone, time to donate those eggs to the garbage man. Such is the life of an egg donor like myself.

Woke up this morning, and like yesterday it was overcast which was like waking up in the winter, in darkness. Makes it difficult to rouse oneself out of slumber but I was able to, on my own, no prodding from Bill since he was with his mom last night. I guess there will be five more weeks of that. He plans to stay over tonight and tomorrow so I will wake up on my birthday with Bill next to me and go to bed the same way, with Bill next to me. That’s a nice way to start and end my birthday. Of course I can think of other things to make the day that much sweeter, but those thoughts remain silent and buried in my consciousness.

I got an early present from Annemarie, Rex and Earl who mailed a package from San Francisco and arrived yesterday. I tried to hold off on opening it, but Annemarie made me open it. She insisted and pulled the older sister tone of voice (no she didn’t). I got two books by Sherman Alexie, an iTunes gift card, Bruce, Boz Scaggs, Cat Stevens, Damian Marley and a collection of songs from Woody Allen’s films that she burned for me at my request. And also at my request, most importantly cookies and brownies that don’t make me ill and taste like, surprisingly enough like cookies and brownies. What is her secret?

Just got a phone call from Teo Oliveri who was a neighbor when I lived in a basement hovel at 1124 Willow Avenue in Hoboken. He called to wish me a happy birthday as he was on his way to a 12 step meeting. Good for him and good luck to him. He was a little out of control when I last saw him, but I have seen worse from other people.

I was supposed to go out for cocktails with Renee, a former employee of McMann and Tate and Amiable Alan who still works there. It was planned last week and the plans started to fall apart last night, finally collapsing when Alan couldn’t make it due to the oily wolves he works for. C’est la vie. It’s good to be home.

Gimme a cookie!


It’s Monday afternoon. I went to work for about two hours. Left feeling rather gross. Clammy, sweaty, upset stomach and bad taste in my mouth which is no taste at all. Yesterday I didn’t do too much of anything, no beach day but I did make brownies. Not those kind of brownies since the special ingredient is too expensive to use sometimes. Just plain old brownies. I had all these eggs that Julio gave me a couple of weeks ago and I thought it best to use them before they hatched. I grabbed an old mixing bowl from the top shelf of my pantry and it was a little dusty so I cleaned it and scrubbed it and thought it was ok to use.

I grabbed some eggs, some vegetable oil and some water and stirred about 60 times with a spoon. All seemed to be going well but the bowl smelled of plastic. I didn’t think too much of it as I placed the brownie batter in a tray, in the oven. Soon the whole apartment smelled like the bowl, or at least in my mind it did. 31 minutes later I took out the tray to let them cool and a little while after that I had a piece. It tasted ok, but there was that smell. Couldn’t get it out of my mind, and after eating a brownie or two, couldn’t get it out of my mouth. I wound up throwing out the whole batch.

Now, why would I bake brownies in 80 degree humidity? It was all about the eggs I guess. Not a good excuse especially since Annemarie is sending me a package of baked goods for my birthday like I always ask for. Just a bad idea. Felt funny strange after that though I could function. Woke up, feeling totally out of it. I imagined large pieces of plastic floating through my intestines, my blood stream. I got out of bed, showered, coffee. Bill spent the night over and headed to work, I dragged my ass soon after that, with each passing minute, feeling like crap.

Got to the bus, couldn’t even read, just stared out the window, trying to keep my eyes open. By the time I made it to work I was totally out of it and drenched in sweat. Felt like and looked like shit when I got to my desk, a bit annoyed that the weekend workers left all their crap laying around, making me clean it up. Changed t shirts and tried starting up the office, surprised that that was about all I could do for the day. Felt really clammy even though my desk is underneath a vent.

Carla came in and I made my move. I opted to leave at 10:00 since there really wasn’t anything else I could do and I was feeling so tired. I made it across town and was soon snoozing on a bus headed back to Hoboken. Took a nap for a few hours and feeling better. My temperature was 97.7 before the nap, now it’s 97.8. Progress?

I do feel a lot better. Just taking it easy. I threw away that nasty mixing bowl of plastic death. I can’t help but think the bowl was made in China.

Just got back from a walk outside, still muggy as all hell and once again, I am drenched.

Okay Chorale

Ahh. A bit tired, a bit jazzy, and a bit hungover. Took a lot to get motivated today. A cocktail too many last night was the reasonable culprit. I’m not regretting it, I had a good time. I watched Small Town Gay Bar, which was Executive Produced by Kevin Smith. It’s about how it’s the only gay bar for miles in Mississippi and people travel hundreds of miles just to go and socialize for a few hours. I guess we take it for granted up here in this metropolitan area. I don’t take it for granted. I simply don’t go.

Bill came home last night, first time in a few days that I’d seen him. We watched Bill Maher and Bill soon went to sleep soon after. I joined him an hour or so later, laying next to him in bed next to an air conditioner that doesn’t condition the air at all. But it was good to have his body next to me in bed, it really makes a difference to be able to reach out and touch someone. I know he felt the same way. No frottage or anything like that, just a well placed arm across the chest. All pretty comfortable for all concerned.

Waking up was easy, though I guess when the sun came up I had put on my eye mask which allowed me to sleep that much more. Bill was up and about and soon I stumbled around, making coffee and going out for those round rolls of dough with holes in the middle as well as the tabloids. It was hot at 9:00 in the morning and must have sweated a gallon by the time I got back home. Bill was off to his classes and then to stay with his mother. I did laundry and took a nap after talking to Julio on the phone for a little while. Had a deep sleep and a dream that featured a disguised Lesley Robertson from McMann and Tate, hectoring me on the fact that I never gave her a phone call when I said that I would.

It was a two hour nap and though it revived me somewhat I couldn’t really get started and felt I was a few feet behind myself.

Nothing too major. I motivated myself to actually get up off my ass and head into the city, despite the jazz tunes clouding up my head and sheer laziness on my part. Rode the Path train to 14th street and couldn’t deal with the crowds so I walked down 12th street and headed to Farfetched where I hung out and talked to Susan for a spell. Harpy popped in, he was going to Mr. Steve’s for a haircut. He’s been looking rather shaggy lately. Susan got hung up on making a sale so I left and walked towards Tompkins Square Park, stopping off for an Addicted to Chocolate milk shake from Ben and Jerry’s which initially sounded like a good idea, but in reality weighed heavily on my stomach for a bit.

Hooked up with Rand and Lisa and Richard who were promoting the Jack Kirby Museum since Jack was born a few blocks south of Tompkins Square. Good to see Rand and Lisa and good to make the acquaintance of Richard. I wandered around the park, checking out the burlesque show and various vendors and graffiti artists who had hung canvases on the perimeter of the park.

It was too humid to stay in one place and I wandered around the East Village, winding up on a crowded St. Mark’s Place and headed over to the Path train to return home, all sweaty and quite tired.

Tomorrow may indeed be a beach day, so I’m taking it easy tonight, watching The Importance of Being Earnest on cable. Last time I saw it I was living in Lodi with my father so it’s good to see it in relatively stress free conditions.

And here are some pics.

Wayward Italian Feast Musicians

Rand, Richard and Lisa representing the Kirby Museum

Free Dalai Lama Rides

Ballerina Burlesque

Boss Tweed



Dude with Possibly Maybe tattooed on his shoulder

Goin back to Jersey

Baby, I Love You

It’s Friday. Nowhere to go. Chillaxin at home is the agenda tonight. Cocktail by my side, fag burning in ashtray, all I need is a fedora and color blindness and I think I would be able to be a character in a Raymond Carver, ummm errr Raymond Chandler story. Need a dame, a moll, something, someone. Who’s Raymond Carver?

Michael Chertoff is Skeletor. There I’ve said it. Off to a black site for me? I was looking the other day at an entry from when I first started at McMann and Tate, I wrote seeing somebody being escorted in handcuffs into 201 Varick Street. That’s the NY office for the Department of Homeland Security. I’m surprised I tied that all together since as usual I have no idea where it is I am headed.

Work was quiet. Finished my work early enough and wound up chatting with various bears and their admirers. A bear is described in the raunchy John Waters clip from a week or so ago. I’m not a bear according to Juan. Song I bet, would disagree. Let those big game hunters fight it out. Two handsome young men fighting over the definition of me. Not me, but my definition. I was thinking about walking by the Garden to check out the hot young men going to the reggaeton show, but I remembered that at home and I sure as hell ain’t heading back in, at least not tonight. These itty bitty Daddy Yankee wannabees will just have to wait. I like the guys, not the music. And that’s Pedro’s influence. On the music, not so much the guys.

One of the bears I chatted with is Blabbeando, a blogger from Queens. Don’t know if he’s a bear or a cub or an otter or merely an admirer. Regardless or illegal dress, he’s a nice intelligent guy and he’s surprised at how personal my blog is. I told him he should see what I don’t write, which doesn’t make sense since I haven’t written it, no one will ever see it. His blog is more political and personal. Funny thing is last night I watched something about how in the sixties, the political became personal. Sort of like getting one’s chocolate in someone’s peanut butter. No innuendo there, honestly.

Once again I took an hour for lunch and once again I had a cigar. The other day I spied a relatively handsome guy smoking a cigar on Park Avenue so I thought I’d set up camp and take some pics. He eyed me suspiciously, I surreptitiously took some snaps of him. And a sexy guy in a suit. Carla asked me if she could take off next Friday and the following Monday and Tuesday to see her family in North Carolina. I told her ok, just need to run it by Tom Chin. Her friend Millie would fill in for her. Fine by me. Millie would replace Carla should Carla leave for another job, which she feels isn’t going to happen and with my experience, would mean she’s going to leave.

Fantastic breeze coming through the open window. I’m enjoying it. Hope Annemarie, Rex and Earl have a splendid time in San Francisco.

That’s about it for this end. Feel free to comment. No really, feel free.

Remember, nothing says “I love you” like a tattoo on your neck.

Here’s some pics.

Handsome suited gent

Cigar smoking dude

where I used to work at Wanker Banker. 3rd floor from top. They’ve moved.

Lexington and 50th street

Penny for your thoughts. or comments.

Nessun Dorma

Luciano Pavarotti died at aged 71, pancreatic cancer. Probably the closest thing to a voice like Enrico Caruso’s that my generation will ever hear if they ever heard. I would have liked to have seen him sing, he did a free concert in Central Park a while ago, but I was too much of a rock snob to go. I may have been working or unavailable but I didn’t make an effort to go. My loss, for real. I like to think I’m well rounded in my taste in music, but I do have slip ups and ruefully appreciate things after the fact. I’m still a metal resistor, in all it’s forms from Death to Speed. Doesn’t go well with herbalization, does it? Well Bad Brains did it, but I never liked them either, so my resistance goes to Hardcore, Thrash and Straight Edge. There are one or two songs I like from both groups, but they slip my memory right now. Feel free to ask though. No really. I am writing to you phantom voyeur friends of Harpy.

Yesterday I woke up to My Sweet Lord, and went to sleep to I Should Have Known Better and woke up this morning to Yesterday. I do enjoy having WCBS back though it’s not the same, more like a reanimation of sorts. I just want to make my waking up peacefully, not wanting Black Sabbath or Pink Floyd on the radio. And since I recognize most oldies, it’s all pop music I have had a love hate relationship with pop music over the years. Loving it out of necessity and hating it when I didn’t need it.
Last night I didn’t do much of anything. I did watch A History of Violence by David Cronenberg and starring Viggo Mortenson and Maria Bello. It is a violent but tastefully done. There are reasons and consequences of the violence. It’s a stylized violence which makes a difference. I mean, consider crude violence and what that looks like. Not saying this is balletic like a Kung Fu movie, but it’s a good movie and rather fast paced. IMDB it if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait for the phantom voyeur friends of Harpy. I do recommend A History of Violence.

Work was fairly quiet, both Tom Chin and Vivek out on holiday, though not together. Got a phone call from Congressman Tom Cole for Tom Chin, saying that Tom Chin was going to get a Certificate of Merit from Tom Cole. Some big republican thing asking for money no doubt. I sent an email to Tom about it and he called back figuring out they were asking for money. He wanted to know why they asked for him, and I mentioned that he’s a republican from Connecticut. He said I was probably more right wing than he is. I certainly dress like a right winger for work, (it’s my belief that as abhorrent as I find the republican party, the men dress a lot better then their democratic opponents. If only there were a sharp dressed democrat.) but with my luck if and when the revolution happens I’ll be dressed in a suit and tie. Draw your own conclusions phantom friends of Harpy. Draw them I say!

Overheard this conversation on the street this afternoon, 51st between Park and Lexington.
I submitted this to
“Her father always said them bitches better learn how to read. The only one was Cleo and she learned that legal shit and got hired. But every summer they would fire her so that kids from Harvard hospital…school could come in and do pre bono work.”