Monthly Archives: July 2008

Pressure Drop

Jeezy creezy it’s hot. 90 degrees in the apartment, windows open with a slight breeze. Barometric pressure is falling. I sweat a lot. I change undershirts a few times a day. It’s pretty bad, but what can I do? It’s my body’s cooling system I don’t sweat and it’s ‘hello heat stroke’.

I get some strange looks from people on my way into the office. I guess most of them take the subway whereas I walk across town. I saw West Indian Tony who sweats behind a grill all day, he always gives me a bunch of paper towels to mop up my sweat.

I always keep an extra t shirt in the IT room which is very air conditioned all day and night. In fact I spend a few minutes in there throughout the day. Part of the challenge in walking across town is trying to avoid touching anyone.

There’s a lot of people and occasionally there are people heading towards you and vice versa. That’s when the mirror effect sometimes comes into play. It happened this afternoon, only instead of face to face I was turning a corner as some roly poly guy was walking straight ahead. I was in his path and he was in mine.

I moved, he moved. I hesitated, he hesitated. Fed up in 90 degree heat I decided to move ahead and thats when roly poly decided to do the same. Outwards went his gut and my right forearm was practically engulfed by his belly.

I was wearing the iPod so I didn’t hear his expected curse. Is a curse effective if it goes unheard? I’ve rubbed one or two bellies in my lifetime and this was nowhere as pleasant as that. It was an disconcerting experience and since it happened on a course I usually take, we will probably cross paths again, though it’s doubtful that I would remember what his face looked like, but that belly would not be forgotten anytime soon.

I put in notice that I would be out of the office next Thursday and Friday. I suggested getting a temp to work in my place but good old Greg Stevens replied that there was no one who could do my job, that I was irreplaceable. I responded that since he wrote that I would definitely be back the following Monday.

My brother Frank and his wife Elaine have rented a house on Long Beach Island and I plan on going down on Thursday and coming back on Saturday with them. It should be nice to get out of this metropolitan area for a day at least.

And I may or may not go to the beach with Julio on Sunday. Stine and Alexander have flown to Denmark to see her family and it was actually Stine’s idea that we would be able to go to the beach while they’re away.

I miss Alexander, I haven’t seen my little buddy in a couple of weeks. It’s amazing how I worry about him. Julio is going over to Denmark in a week or two, so if he wants to go to the beach that would be the time to go.

He was a bit wishy washy about this Sunday though, but left it open ended which gives me hope.

I also stopped by Barnes And Noble today and saw a book about Sonic Youth. I picked it up to see if anyone I knew was in there, and while there was no Bill Ryan there were a few entries for Maurice Menares.

here’s a link, courtesy of BettiCola with regards to my entries earlier this week
cut n’paste
http://www.9news.com/news/article.aspx?storyid=96741&provider=top

and here’s something that is just silly.

I Got The News

Busy Busy, that’s me. It’s been great having Bill back here in Hoboken and of course he’s been driving me crazy. Good crazy though. I missed his talking to the tv, his wonderful laughter and the little things we do together. There are other things that drive me crazy but I’m not getting into them since they’re such old pet peeves, I just don’t want to open that can of worms and come off like a nag.

We watched Keith Olbermann again, Bill’s turning into quite the fan of Olbermann then watched Daily Show and the Colbert Report and then at 10:00 Bill went to bed. I wound up watching some documentary on The Who, which was ok. Roger Daltrey definitely doesn’t have the voice he used to have and Pete Townshend certainly doesn’t jump around anymore, but still does the windmill guitar bit from time to time.

That killed an hour, then it was the local news. I was surprised that hardly any news outlets reported on the Knoxville shootings. I mean, it’s a juicy story what with the killer having Michael Oso Savage, Sean Halfwitty and Bill O’Screechy on his bookshelf. Books that advocate the end of liberals.

I’m surprised Ann C***ure was not included since she wished that Timothy McVeigh (another wad who took his cues from the reich wing) would blow up the New York Times building.

So much for the liberal media. Of course there is no liberal media since it’s owned by multi-national conglomerates.

My sock puppets were active online today. Last Friday in Times Square, the organization, Critical Mass had their last Friday of the month bike ride, effectively taking over the streets with bicycles. It pisses off drivers and the police and occasionally pedestrians.

Last Friday as hundreds of cyclists pedaled through midtown, one police officer named Patrick Pogan singles out one cyclist and shoulder checks the rider, causing the rider to fall off his bike onto the curb and sidewalk. Officer Pogan claimed the rider tried to run him over, and resisted arrest as the cyclist lay there dazed.

10 years ago, this would have gone unreported, but now, there are cameras everywhere (say cheese!) and the cop has been taken off the streets and charged with perjury by filing a false police report since the incident has been caught on tape and shown on YouTube since then. My faithful sock puppets went to battle with various ‘NYPD could do no wrong’ types.

One of the puppets even sent an email to fat ol’ Andrea Peyser (former columnist of the year) of the NY Pest. She of course condemned the cyclist. I commended the former columnist of the year on being able to write 372 words on the subject. Actually it was more of congratulating her on her sausage fingers being able to hit the proper keys on the keyboard.

She writes 372 words about twice a week and pulls a six figure salary.
What is her technique? Does she swallow or does she spit?

In all fairness her colleague Steve Dunleavy who sleazed upon our shores in the 1970’s around the time of Son of Sam trying to link Jimi Hendrix songs like Hey Joe to the Son of Sam murders ala Manson and Helter Skelter by the Beatles. It didn’t work.

Dunleavy uses less words than Peyser and probably makes more money. But not for long since Dunleavy is said to be fading fast and about to shake off his mortal coil. A first class souse he is, usually found falling off a barstool at Langans on 47th Street. At least Jimmy Breslin gave up the drink and he’s a much better writer.

Tourists

Gurls on the go

Blowing bubbles

Three guys are called in court.
The first guy stands before the judge.
Judge: Why are you here?
Guy: I was in the park. Blowing bubbles.
Judge: Blowing bubbles in the park? Get out of here! Case dismissed. Next!

The second guy appears before the judge.
Judge: And why are you here?
Second Guy: I was in the park blowing bubbles.
Judge: What? Another guy in court for blowing bubbles? Case dismissed! Next!

The third guy appears before the judge.
Judge: And you? Why are you here? What’s your story?
Third Guy: I’m Bubbles.

Here’s a link to a quick chat with Greg Gillis aka Girl Talk

http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2008/07/girl_talks_greg_gillis_on_his.html

Rock Your Baby

Well I got a lot off my chest last night and thank you for your comments. The reaction to the events in Knoxville from the right wing were particularly heinous. Michelle Malkin who so successfully led the charge against Dunkin’ Donuts for Rachel Ray wearing an Arabesque scarf in a television commercial. Writes about how she doesn’t believe the misbegotten jizz was a conservative, that the gun owner was more than likely a liberal trying to get attention.

Of course her chorus of like minded simpletons chimed in saying that if this guy wanted to take out ‘libtards’ why didn’t he shoot up a college? Yes, why didn’t he shoot at students rather than churchgoers? Oh these people deserve Steely Dan up their holes. And I’m not talking Becker/Fagen, I’m talking Burroughs.

And bhikkhu reminded me of something Burroughs wrote about how gays should act like the Mossad and wipe out someone who attacks one of our own. Thanks for the memory.

Last night I had a nice phone call with Harpy who didn’t sound like talk radio for once. A wide range of issues but what stood out for me was talking about bicycles. I remembered when I was a kid, I sort of figured that I wouldn’t have a car and I would have a bicycle to get around.

I don’t know what made me think that then, perhaps it was an early indication of my penchant for going left when everyone else is going right. I used to ride a lot back then in my Bergen County days. Occasionally my sister and I would ride together, up to a Saddle River county park in Paramus. We wouldn’t tell anyone where we were going, just hop on our bikes and ride, even insanely rushing across Route 4 to get from Saddle Brook to Paramus.

NJ wasn’t bike friendly then and it still isn’t. I rode a lot then, not as much as I do now, but still for an adolescent it was enough. I was doored once in Elmwood Park by the father of a friend of my sister. Luckily all I wound up with was a nasty cut on my leg even though I went flying across the street into the opposite lane of traffic. It’s a great way to get around if you’re not being doored and I would do it year round if I could. I would ride to work if I didn’t have to dress so nicely.

I ran into Curtis, I mean Casey on the bus yesterday and today. I wrote about him a week or so ago. Really nice guy, intelligent and opinionated which is somewhat rare these days. He’s been concentrating on writing scripts. I told him about this blog (which is fast approaching a milestone) and also mentioned a script that I found a week or so ago.

I wrote it about 10 years ago when Julio and I had an idea to write a script and see if former Phosphene Tim Sherry would be interested in producing it. Well I took the whole thing seriously, Julio didn’t take it seriously at all. I wound up feeling like a schmuck and shelved the whole thing. Having found it again, I read it and still think it’s not bad. Of course it could use some work but I would have given it a B.

I mentioned to Casey that I also collaborated on a script with someone (John Bruce), called This Is My Plus One. That was supposed to have Maurice Menares and Bob Mould’s then boyfriend Kevin in it. John and I stayed up all night working on it. A few days later John called me up telling me what I had written moved him to tears, it was that good.

Well that’s what I heard at least. Maybe John actually said that he cried because it was such crap and he couldn’t believe I wasted his time working with him. I think it was the former. Anyway I offered to collaborate with Casey at some point down the line, telling him that dialog was something I was good at. At least thats what the voices in my head tell me.

Listen!

God

It’s back to work today. Yesterday was spent mostly indoors, deleting hundred of jpg’s from my computer. Really a lot of pictures as well as deleting music files from iTunes. Do I really need Madonna? No, not at all. The Abyssinians? I love them, but no, they have to go as well. I have the cd’s and they were taking up space on the computer so they gotta go.

Last week I meant to post this: Greenville, SC -Stephen Moller, who murdered Sean William Kennedy on May 16th 2007, was sentenced June 11th to a 5 year suspended sentence to 3 years with 3 years probation after he gets out of jail. He will spend approx. 10 months in jail.

After which he is then entitled to parole. If granted he will be on probation for 3 years. He was also sentenced to 30 days community service and ordered to take anger management classes. In addition he was ordered to have alcohol and drug counseling.

This is what happened: On May 16, 2007, at about 3:45 am, Sean was leaving a local bar in Greenville when a car pulled up beside him, a young man got out of the car, came around the car approached my son and called him fagot and then punched him so hard that it broke his face bones, he fell back and hit the asphalt.

This resulted in his brain to be separated from his brain stem and ricochet in his head. Sean never had a chance. Sean’s killer got back into the car and left my son dying there. A little later he left a message on one of Sean’s girlfriend’s phone, who knew Sean saying: “You tell your fagot friend that when he wakes up he owes me $500 for my broken hand”.

10 months in jail for murdering a gay man.

Cut n’paste
http://www.seanslastwish.org/

Then yesterday in Knoxville TN, a psycho (who should have been stopped at pre-conception with two condoms) goes to a Unitarian Church which was putting on a musical, ‘Annie’ and starts shooting. Why? According to reports, ‘it has been confirmed that the Tennessee shooter unleashed on his victims because of the church’s liberal and gay views’.

The misbegotten jizz had ‘books’ by Sean Hannity, Michael Savage and Bill O’Reilly on his bookshelf. And if that’s not bad enough the fucking christian pieces of shit that comprise the right wing feel it was justified because it was Unitarian. Scumbags mainly claiming that since they weren’t of a particular denomination they were satanists. I wonder how many months the crazed gun-twat will get.

Cut n’paste
http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2008/jul/28/church-shooting-police-find-manifesto-suspects-car/
and also
http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=6293

Newsweek magazine a week or so ago had an article on 14 year old Lawrence King who was murdered earlier this year by a fellow classmate, because Lawrence was out of the closet. Good old Newsweek basically blamed the victim Lawrence King for being out of the closet.

Cut n’paste
http://www.newsweek.com/id/147790

A principal at the school, an out lesbian supported Lawrence King and was smeared by Newsweek as promoting her ‘agenda’ through Lawrence King. This may disgust you but to a gay man like myself it makes me feel like if I was murdered, whomever did the foul deed could easily claim ‘gay panic’ saying that I had come onto them and thus justified in their actions.

Or they could just kill me because I am gay.

A fellow blogger, Blabbeando writes of “a friend had been assaulted on the streets of Queens in August of 2001 and subsequently passed away from the injuries a few days before 9/11. 35 year old Eddie Garzon had apparently been the victim of a brutal gay bashing.”

The star witness for the second trial has gone missing, thereby jeopardizing the chance that Eddie Garzon will find justice.

Cut n’paste
http://www.gaycitynews.com/site/news.cfm?newsid=19858038&BRD=2729&PAG=461&dept_id=568864&rfi=6

and

http://blabbeando.blogspot.com/2008/07/key-witness-vanishes-as-2nd-eddie.html

It’s just disgusting. And these are the murders that make it to the press (sometimes). A lot more don’t make it to the press. Transgendered men and women are assaulted constantly, and sometimes they too are killed.

From Blabbeando
cut n’paste
http://blabbeando.blogspot.com/2008/07/update-police-say-murder-of-transgender.html

Do the assailants act out of a primal fear? Is it because god tells them to? Because it’s an abomination, it says so in the bible and you know that dusty rag supposedly written by morons in the desert is claimed to be the word of god and if god says it’s ok, then it must be ok. Is it the fear of someone else’s ‘lifestyle choice’?

Stupid god. Stupid followers. Stupid people. Douche bags I renounce thee. I used to hope that they would evolve, but now, fuck them. Stay where you are, do not evolve. Fester and rot.

Effeminate men and butch women are some of the bravest people out there today. They are heroes.

Head

Well nothing much at all happened today. I had plans to see the Skatalites who were on the bill at Summerstage with Taj Mahal and Los Pinguos. I know who Taj Mahal is but I’ve never heard of Los Pinguos before, and it doesn’t seem likely that I will be seeing them today either.

Thunderstorms blocked my path today. No bike ride like yesterday, no bus ride into the city either. That was the plan, ride into the city and walk up and see what was going on.

Now I’ve been inside all day watching Shark Week on the Discovery channel. I’ve never watched it before and I’ve just been listening to it rather than watching it. Sure a good scream will get my attention, but more often than not my eyes are occupied with something.

I only really think about sharks when I’m at the beach in the ocean. I could be floating there trying to relax and suddenly the thought of a shark will pop into my head, courtesy of Senor Spielbergo. I saw Jaws in 1975 like everyone else.

I believe I went with my brother Brian on a Friday night that summer at the Hi Way Theater in Fair Lawn. The line was around the block and this was when theaters were mainly one big auditorium rather than it is now, several closets in one theater showing on a much smaller screen.

The movie scared the shit out of 12 year old me. Even the music was terrifying. It was Jaws everywhere that summer, on the radio with the novelty hit Mr. Jaws by Dickie Goodman, the book was on the top of the best seller charts, it was on the covers of magazines and the phenomenon was written up in all the papers.

With the kids in my neighborhood, with the ones that had pools where we would play ‘Jaws’ in the pool, thrashing about as if being attacked by a Great White Shark. Who gets to attack the raft first and who gets to be the shark, or worse yet, sharks?

Jaws was I guess the first blockbuster paving the way for the multi-million spectacles that people line up to see today. After Jaws came Star Wars, which I saw six times in the Stanley Warner Theater on Route 4 in Paramus.

I also saw Jaws 2 and maybe even Jaws 3-D. That was enough for me. By the time of Jaws 2, I knew how dumb things were getting by the time the shark ate the helicopter. Yeah, we knew it was dumb with the late Roy Schneider taunting ‘C’mon you bastard!’ towards the Great White to come at him while holding a insulated cable wide enough for the shark to electrocute itself.

With a flash of fire and sparks it was over for me and the movie. The 3-D gimmick is what got me in the final time. That fall coming back to school, I remember talking to my friends in the schoolyard, and saying that I thought Jaws was really scary. My friends called me a pussy for being scared and I never brought it up again until now.

It’s A Sunshine Day

It was a beautiful day yesterday and it continues today. Last night was so nice I actually left the apartment and walked around for a spell. I smoked a Padron and wandered Washington Street. Cafes and restaurants were bustling.

20 years ago I would always bump into someone I knew, nowadays I don’t know anyone. People moved, sobered up or overdosed I guess. Some of you who’ve I known have done that.

I enjoyed walking around by Pier A, a few fishermen, some couples and various groups of friends. I’m basically a shut in, I go to work and I come home. That’s about it. I forgot about the social scene that exists in Hoboken.

Big doormen checking IDs from various vapid 20 somethings that I could have sired if I was so inclined. I probably fit the bill, walking around smoking a cigar whereas everyone else was wearing the branding that they pay a lot of money to promote.

I strolled by Church Square Park on my return, disappointed that the regional basketball games weren’t happening. I hope I didn’t miss them entirely. I could hear the referee’s whistle from where I sit in my apartment, but never heeded the call.

The walk lasted an hour and I was soon back home, not watching anything in particular and going to bed not too long after that. That’s my Friday night in Hoboken.

Woke up around 8:00 this morning, taking my time before I headed out to do some shopping. I needed to get some more Stevia, some lettuce and of course bagels and the newspapers. Came home, had a nice breakfast and tried to think of something to do.

I watched SCTV: The Early Years and while it’s still funny, it really hasn’t aged too well. Plus after watching current comedies without laugh tracks, it’s unnerving to hear one from 30 years ago.

I decided around noon to go for a bike ride. Nothing planned really, just seeing where the bike would take me. I wound up riding to the Ninth Street elevator and rode it to Congress Street in Jersey City. Up Palisades Avenue, down Hudson Street in Weehawken through my old neighborhood. Some new buildings have gone up since I was last up there.

I also found that some drivers are terrible when dealing with a bicyclist on the road, but the ones talking on their cellphones are the worst. Really dangerous to everyone. And I was almost doored twice. New Jersey is so NOT bike friendly.

I’ve heard talk for years of a path from Bayonne up to the George Washington Bridge but it’s just talk. The right palms aren’t being greased. I take the side streets which are generally wide enough but still one has to maintain strict attention to everything that is going on. That’s a basic rule when riding a bicycle and no, I don’t wear an iPod when cycling. I have enough songs floating around my head and they provide an ample soundtrack.

I had enough water and made it to Fort Lee safely. Then it was over the bridge which still intimidates me. I’ve been riding across it for years but still it freaks me out. No stopping, just getting from point A to point B, from New Jersey to New York City.

On the bridge I get passed by, by various ‘serious’ cyclists with more branding. US Postal Service Lycra and spandex gear, and various other bicycle companies on $1,000 bikes. I’m a bike rat. I wear the bike shorts but keep them underneath whatever shorts I happen to be wearing, and the usual collared shirt with a back pack on. And my bicycle helmet.

There’s a lot more dumb riders than previous rides, who stand at the bottom of steep hills and decide that would be the best place to have a chat as you’re barreling towards them going 35 miles per hour. Or the two blondes who decide that even though that certain bike path is narrow, why not stop and discuss hair tips right then and there?

I made it to Central Park unscathed, and rode over to the rock by Summerstage where nothing was going on, at least not at 3:00. I then rode over to the skate circle which was just starting up. Some of the same characters that I’ve seen over the past dozen or so years.

Roller Granny, The schizo man who was on some news magazine a few years ago. Great at his job but he occasionally winds up somewhere and has no clue how he got there, but still he winds up roller skating around and around. The buff brutha who’s been there for years. Even some of the same spectators I’ve recognized over the years.

I usually sit in the same spot which is opposite the unofficial Bear Hill. I found that out via Joe My God’s blog. I read that everyday and comment occasionally on it. Perhaps if I met Joe without his group I would say hello, but there were a few bald, heavy set guys and I couldn’t tell which one was Joe anyhow. I’m more of a wolf than a bear anyway and my lycanthropic instincts told me to keep away.

It was a brief visit in the park and I was out of there maybe 90 minutes. I decided to go back to the bike path via 59th Street. No problem getting out of the park despite all the bicycle taxis driven by utter and complete morons. I was on Broadway behind one of these twats when he decided to make a U Turn in the street.

He sort of apologized and I told him was an idiot on a tricycle who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. That’s when he decided to hit my back tire. I didn’t stop I just kept going flipping him the bird as he yelled Fuck You in a Russian accent.

I decided to do something on the way back. Instead of catching a Path train from the World Trade Center station to Exchange Place, I took it easy and treated myself to a ferry ride to Hoboken. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again anytime soon. $8.75 for a one way fare that takes 10 minutes to cross the Hudson River.

I know that it’s the fuel costs as well as paying the salary of everyone involved in the operation, but it would be cheaper if I had a car and drove into the city myself. But it was an exorbitant amount for my cheap ass. A single passenger without a bike is $7.75. That’s not bad since once you get to the city you get a bus that takes you in the general direction of wherever you want to go.

Me? I have a bike, I would get there myself thank you. Shanks mare. Next time the Path train for sure. And I wouldn’t have to listen to these newcomers to Hoboken prattle on about where the best nightclub is on 14th Street. I enjoyed today’s bike ride despite other people being around.

26 miles roughly. Not bad for the first time since last year. It would have been further if it I didn’t take the ferry.

The Hudson River

Off the bike path in Harlem

The Promenade

Shorty watching the dancers

Remembering how he used to dance…

Straight out of the news magazines….

Roller Granny

Buff brutha

Some blogging bears on the hill

Sailing past Florence…umm…err… Union City

Slouching towards Hoboken
way

Apple Scruffs

Wow last night and today, the weather has been beautiful. Last night was a wonderful time on the Hoboken waterfront. Last night, as years previous, there was a performance of the Guitar Bar All Stars. My friend, guitarist extraordinaire, Jim Mastro is a co-owner of the store, the Guitar Bar and every year the employees, former employees and kids who take lessons there get together and play.

Last year was covers of songs of the British Invasion, though no Beatles and no Stones were performed. The year before was a cover of the Beatles Revolver. This year they decided to do songs from the video game, Guitar Hero.

As usual it was a lot of fun. And it’s good to see Jim again but for me and no offense to Jim, I just get a thrill out of seeing Meghan and their daughters Lily and Ruby. I got there a little after 7:30 and missed out on Lily playing two songs. I did catch Ruby playing with her dad to Should I Stay or Should I Go by the Clash. Ruby held her own and provided excellent backup vocals.

I enjoyed the show, hanging back smoking a Padron. I was in the cigar smoking section apparently as there were a few other guys smoking stogies. At some point towards the end, my LCD screen on my camera crapped out. I could still take pictures, but I couldn’t use the screen to see what I was shooting.

I could get the playback on the screen though and it worked perfectly for video. I was worried that I would have to send it in which could be a problem since I was hoping to take the camera to Lois and Fred’s soirée next Saturday.

I helped Jim and Meghan load their car with various things after the show and was home by 9:30 which was pretty good. I begged off going to the after party at a pub across the street from the Guitar Bar. Having had a few too many beers the other night I just went home. I uploaded a video of Ruby and the Guitar Bar All Stars last night and that took forever.

I also looked at the vacation photos my sister sent from their trip to Oregon. Looks like everyone had a great time and my nephew Earl looks like a real lady killer with his haircut.

Got up this morning, out the door and soon on a not so crowded bus. It’s summer and a lot of people take their Fridays off. I did last week and this was the first full week since June that I’ve worked. I knew it was going to be a quiet day, but I definitely had to be in before 8:30 when there was a scheduled meeting.

I was hoping to see some of Feist performing in Bryant Park but it wasn’t to be. I did walk through the park and saw a decent crowd but the band wasn’t playing yet and at that moment were behind some black screens on stage unseen by the audience.

Still, I had no time to check it out and was soon in the office. The meeting went off according to plan and was over by 9:15. I probably could have gone home then but stayed around to get things ready for next week.

I was also able to call up Canon and talk to a customer service technician about my camera. The warranty expired last month but I was still in a grace period until August. He suggested resetting the camera and if that didn’t work I would have to send it in, but if I did that I would have no camera for Lois and Fred. Luckily the reset worked and my camera was fully functioning again.

I left work at 1:45 and came home. Watched the Portishead Live in NYC dvd and it sounded great but was putting me to sleep. So I took a nap, perhaps too long and now I’m a bit foggy.

And now some extras…

Should I Stay or Should I Go

Jim Mastro guitar maestro! (like that’s never been said before)

The Guitar Bar All Stars

Me and Meghan ( the best out of two, trust me )

Our ersatz daughter Lily

Padron

The ring finger

The groom fully dressed (by his bridesmaids)

200 Park Avenue

The neck

Good morning moon

Obama in Berlin

Heaven on Their Minds

On this day in 1992, the Roman Catholic Church’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith issues a letter to American bishops stating that the homosexual condition is disordered and homosexual activity should not be condoned, that the homosexual inclination is itself intrinsically disordered, and homosexual acts can “in no case…be approved of.”

Yes listen to the child molesters in their gold palaces wearing gowns and taking orders from a former Hitler Youth evil queen in Prada shoes. I wanted to be a priest at some point in my life. I thought I had the calling but I think it turned out to be a wrong number.

I was raised in the catholic church. My father was a member of the Holy Name Society and my mother was in the Rosary Society. I used to go to Novenas with my mother, just to get out of the house and also to witness the mystery of the mass. I loved the whole pageantry, the stations of the cross, Advent, even the Lenten season.

I was taught by nuns at St. Francis de Sales and I was also beaten by nuns. I was always interested in mythology and though I didn’t realize it then, the things I was saying and hearing at Mass were just a different mythology from Greek/Roman/Norse mythology, and those stories were more entertaining than the christian stories.

I loved the stories, but actually I liked the movies based on the stories. King of Kings, The Ten Commandments, The Robe. I was confirmed as a soldier of Christ, taking the confirmation name of Matthew since my original confirmation name of Joshua was deemed too Jewish by my parents.

I studied the hundred of questions, memorized them since the word was during the confirmation mass, if the bishop asked you one of the questions and you didn’t answer correctly, he would slap you. I learned that anyone could baptize in an emergency, all you needed was water and some holy words. That seemed cool and I kept an eye out for a while, for people who looked like they were about to die unbaptized. Oh how I wanted to baptize someone.

There were different feast days celebrated, singing ‘Oh Mary we crown thee with blossoms today/Queen of the angels/Queen of the May’ in May since that was Mary’s month.

In fifth grade the priests came around to my class and asked the boys who wanted to be altar boys. All the boys raised their hands except for me. I knew better. Both my brothers were altar boys and from what I gathered it was more a pain in the ass than anything.

I didn’t want to get up early on a Sunday morning to do the 6:00AM mass. No way. Plus I had seen my mother ironing the cassocks that my brothers had to wear and I felt she needed some time away from all that. Most of the boys dropped out of the altar boy program eventually.

I recall reading the book of the movie, The Omen which scared me quite a bit. Enough that I insisted that my mother take me to confession right away. She drove me to the closest church, Sacred Heart, aka Jesus in a glass elevator.

We made it in time for a Saturday night confession. I went in first saying the same thing I always said, Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession I have lied, I have cursed and plotted to take over the world.

Three Hail Mary’s, three Glory Be’s and three Our Fathers and I was redeemed. My mother who also confessed, told the priest that I insisted on going to confession right away. The priest was impressed. On the way home my mother asked why I felt it was so important and I told her it was from reading The Omen. She was disappointed. I was happy to be saved from the clutches of the satanic toddler named Damian.

As time went on I started to get tired of hearing the same stories year after year and began to resent the intrusion of the church in my day to day life. I had graduated from a catholic grammar school to a catholic high school where none of the boys were interested in much of anything except heavy metal and drugs. I don’t even think girls mattered to them. I know they didn’t matter to me.

The beginning of the end of my catholic childhood came in sophmore year, when we had to write term papers on different religions. I was assigned the Lutheran faith. I found myself agreeing with some of the things Martin Luther had said, the church being corrupt and how you don’t need a priest to be able to talk to god.

Then with my sexuality placing me in an undesirable camp for the Holy Roman Apostolic church I knew it was over. I never looked back.

9/11 moved me from the agnostic camp to the atheist camp, when I realized that religion divides and causes a lot of pain and suffering and it simply wasn’t worth my time. Now the whole idea of religion annoys me.

Last night’s storm

Voodoo Ray

Well I think last night’s entry was one of my best. It came quite easily too. I enjoyed it so much that I was the first to comment on it. I wrote it before I went to McSwells where I met Lois and her betrothed, Fred.

I walked up Washington Street distressed by the stroller set. Honestly these people with their strollers. A man and woman with a stroller and their toddler letting the kid look at and touch whatever he wanted until the kid just sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, mom with the stroller not moving and she and the dad were trying to reason with the kid to get up off the sidewalk.

Forget about making room for pedestrians like me, let junior sit where dogs shit. After I maneuvered around those three I was met head on with three young moms and their strollers, all walking side by side, stroller to stroller as if they owned the friggin’ sidewalk.

Julio and Stine are of course excused from this behavior simply because they don’t behave like that with Alexander.

I got up to McSwells where Lois and Fred were waiting. Lois offered to buy dinner but I had eaten already since when I got home I was famished. I did order some curly fries and shared them with Lois and Fred. Also had mayonnaise with the fries for that European feel. To further the Euro mindset I drank Stella Artois. Nice for a hot summer evening.

As I sat at the table with Lois and Fred I had one eye on the door looking out for my brother Frank. Once again it was old home week. Alice Genese, a few Bongos including super nice guy Jim Mastro and his wife Meghan the funniest girl alive. She brightens up my world when she’s around.

My brother eventually showed up and I think Meghan gave him a great big hug, thinking it was me. That’s what Frank thought. We do look alike. In fact a friend of his gave me a big hello when he saw me, not realizing that it wasn’t Frank until I said Hello back. It’s unnerving. I sometimes make a conscious decision not to walk around with a puss on since I’ve seen what Frank looks like with a puss on.

On a smoke break I wound up talking to two former denizens of the Beat N’ Path. We chatted about some people we had in common. I confessed a certain snobbery that McSwells people had towards the Beat N’ Pathers. One guy who used to run the Kitchen Table Music shows there told me of his first time at McSwells when gay people sat at one part of the bar and straight people sat at another. It sounded like bullshit to me since I had never seen such a thing and I sat wherever I damned well pleased.

The Individuals were good, but sorry to say, out of tune and dull. They had a nice crowd though. I hadn’t heard those songs in about 20 years and to tell you the truth, even though I liked them then, I could have gone another 20 years without hearing them again.

I’m sure they’re all nice people though I only know Glenn. Let me rephrase that, I don’t know if they’re all nice people. I’ve seen Janet through the years and she’s never said a word to me though we both know similar people. One time while in my suit and tie she sat opposite me on the bus and kept giving me the look that I know so well. The look that is, ‘He looks just like Frank…’

I just wanted to go home. The show ended, but Frank was in his element. Saying good night to his various friends. Funny- he used to have some comments about my friends, though I can’t remember ever commenting on his.

I was home a little before 12:30, past my bedtime. I have a real job now, a good job and needed to function on what was going to be 5.5 hours of sleep, and with the Stella Artois, it wasn’t a restful sleep.

Oh, how last night followed me throughout the day. I persevered and got through the day, even eating my usual healthy salad when my body wanted something more substantial. Still, I was able to get through the day and left at 4:00 instead of leaving a half hour later.

I was supposed to have dinner with two friends from my Wanker Banker days, but I had to help Bill out and his mom. Now I’m home again and I know I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.

Lois and Fred

The Individuals blurred

The Wrist

Open Late

A milestone approaches and I am inching towards it. I’m excited. No, really.

I Don’t Need No Doctor

Last night was a wee bit intense. Juan came by after going head to head and toe to toe with both his mother and his father. He was fairly livid when he came by and I did my best to chill him out. Ninety minutes of Weeds and a half hour with a London call girl did the trick or at least that is what I had hoped.

He also used the computer and I was silently amazed at how fast he can type. Then again he was basically raised with a computer keyboard underneath his fingers. His words per minute skills must be close to triple digits. Impressive. I did have to kick his ass out so that I could get ready to go to sleep. He understood, he’s good like that.

Also chatted for a bit with Song in Sydney. He got his visa and should be back in the states next month. It would be good to see him and Ray again. Been a while. Last time they were in town I fell ill.

Slept really well, good old air conditioner humming along as I slept. I didn’t want to get out of bed, but of course that is what I had to do. I was out the door before 7:00 again and got on a soon to be crowded bus.

I sat in my usual spot and read An Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett, author of The History Boys among others. He’s a favorite author lately. This is about the Queen taking up reading which she never had time for before. That description doesn’t do it justice, but it’s not much more complicated than that. It’s an entertaining novella and after starting it yesterday I am almost finished with it. I’m so lucky to have the library just down the street.

Oh what an idiot day I’ve had. Work was busy, Tom Chin out of the office and John could you do this, John can you do that all day long. Not that I minded, not at all. It makes the day go faster and makes me feel somewhat needed. Vivek, the managing director and Greg Stevens the president of the company were getting a letter together to send out and I had to rewrite it an proof it a few times.

Unlike this blog where I sometimes post without fully checking for errors, I sometimes go back and make the necessary corrections after it’s been published. Today with Greg and Vivek I looked like a buffoon. They’d make edits, I’d work them into what I was writing and occasionally I’d omit something that they would point out after I printed out the letter.

I did my best and tomorrow is the day they go out so I’ll be bringing a fine toothed comb to the office.

But the thing that was the most idiotic was truly my fault. I’ve had some problems with the eyeglasses I got in November of last year. I had them fixed, then there was a problem with the lenses. So I brought them back after Evan, the nice guy who may or may not have a ‘thing’ for me was going to have a new pair made.

The lenses came in last week and he told me to bring in the frames. I said that I didn’t have the frames, that I left them with him. He looked and looked but they weren’t there in the shop. I wound up getting a whole new pair of glasses which I got today.

They look great, better than the old pair. As I was dealing with Greg and Vivek, I was cleaning up my desk getting ready to go home. I open a drawer and find an eyeglass case. I open it and what do I find, but the eyeglasses I said I left with Evan.

Oh I laughed through my horror, my idiocy. I guess I have to do the right thing and bring back the old pair that was missing and tell him it was all my fault.

I’m an idiot.

Tonight, I’m going to McSwells again. What is this? The eighties? I’m meeting with my friend Lois to discuss music since I am DJ’ing at her wedding party at the Rainbow Lodge in Walton NY on August 2. Then I’m meeting my brother Frank to see the Individuals reunion.

Oh but tomorrow, going back to Evan, humble and apologetic. Years ago, I would have had the ‘get over’ attitude, nowadays, I just want to do what is right.

And that means eating humble pie.

Croaking Lizard

Day something or other of the heat wave. Yes, it’s hot again and the question on everyone’s mind is, ‘Is it hot enough for ya?’ Still while walking through midtown Manhattan today I do see the occasional Asian Indian wearing long sleeved shirts. So for them- No, it isn’t hot enough.

Last night I watched Generation Kill which for me brought the early days of the current war home. I had heard about unarmored vehicles but last night watching the troops heading into Iraqi towns, you could see they were sitting ducks.

I still don’t see why they just don’t grab Donald Rumsfeld and strap him to the front of a jeep and let him catch the bullets. Stupid fucktard that he is. He’s been out of the limelight lately so that probably means he’s going to die soon.

Before I watched Generation Kill I watched a biopic on John Lennon called , ‘In His Life: The John Lennon Story’. It focused on the early years of John’s life, having to choose between living with his mother or father, the battles with his Aunt Mimi, his mother Julia’s death and of course meeting Paul McCartney and George Harrison. That’s as far as I got before switching over to Generation Kill.

After that I watched the Simpsons Movie which is still pretty funny. It’s aged well, after a year.

This morning was back to work. Three days off seemed longer, but that may be because I stayed indoors most of the weekend and napped quite a bit. Time crawls when you’re climbing the walls.

I played Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry’s Reggae Greats album on the iPod walking to work. It’s a collection of ten songs that Lee Perry produced. I hadn’t heard it in a while and it is a fave. It brought back a few memories of how deeply immersed I was in Reggae for a number of years.

It was basically all I listened to. I have a deep love of Dub as well. Reggae and dub go hand in hand. I listened to Bob Marley in the 1980’s but didn’t buy anything except for the Legend collection and also Black Uhuru, Red. I did see the original Black Uhuru open up for King Sunny Ade at the Dr. Pepper music festival on the pier with a bunch of friends. I could swear that show lasted about six hours.

Somehow in the 1990’s I became totally infatuated with reggae. I was working at Skyline Studios and out on the street there were usually some Rastas hanging out selling weed. My friend Miriam was into reggae as much as I was, so I got a lot of music from her when we weren’t fighting. Usually the peace pipe brought us together.

I learned from Miriam about Gregory Issacs, Dennis Brown, Jacob ‘The Killer’ Miller, Burning Spear, U-Roy, I-Roy and Big Youth among others. The Rastas outside became friendly enough to invite inside. No work for them indoors. They were welcome until They Might Be Giants complained about feeling uneasy with the dreads hanging around my desk. Friggin’ nerds ruined it and I’ve never liked They Used to Mean Something to Someone ever again, though I didn’t much care for them beforehand.

True they had the run of the studio and at $2000 an hour they were entitled to having whomever they wanted around. I became good friends with a Rasta named Marcus and his brothers. They came from Guyana one by one. First Marcus, then Clarence, then Kenneth and finally the baby, Jamal.

Marcus was the oldest and lived in the States for a number of years. The other three came from the country and understanding them was a challenge. After hanging around with them for a few months I started to slip into a patois whenever I was talking to them.

It came quite naturally and raised eyebrows when I would talk to them on the phone. I’d hang up and whoever was around would ask what the hell it was I was talking about. I couldn’t really tell them.

Marcus was nice enough to lend me his giant sound system during my DJ’ing heydays. Two giant speakers, a mixer and amplifier and I was soon spinning classic selections at Johnny’s Bar in the Village on Wednesday nights. A small bar the size of a shoebox filled with my friends and Rastas on Wednesday nights. Too bad it only lasted a few weeks, but oh well.

I remember one night at McSwells, a drunken Joe Kindarotten (is there any other kind of Joe Kindarotten?) gave me a hard time about the homophobia in Reggae. I told Joe that the homophobia was more with Danehall Reggae which I didn’t like, I was more into Roots Reggae, which is a big difference.

I guess it was just a phase, my passion for Reggae a highly enjoyable phase. I resented Carly Simon’s brother, Peter who told me that my immersion into Reggae culture was a phase. Like he would know after publishing two photo journals about Reggae music. After countless shows, spliffs and late night laughs, Reggae stopped being in the forefront of my musical tastes.

It still is a music than enabled me to make friends, easier than Rock and Roll ever did. My love for Reggae is still there, it’s in my DNA and usually comes up during drug testing.

Under construction

The tying of the shoe

Bomb sniffing dogs at Grand Central

Voices Carry

Well I just had a lovely dinner of leftovers. I liked it better the second time around. And who wants to make a big dinner in day five of the heat wave. Now the weather people are saying it’s going to be like this until Tuesday. How enticing.

This upcoming week is the first full five day work week that I’ve had in three weeks. I’m sure I can get through it without much trouble. It’s been too hot to do much of anything except stay indoors most of the day. I get up early, do whatever it is I might have to do, home by 11:00 and then I don’t go out again until about 4:00.

Today that is just what I did. Last night I did the same thing, except for an hour when I sat on my stoop and had a couple of beers. Watched various neighbors come in and out while I read Uncut magazine and smoked a Padron. Then the mosquitoes made themselves known and I came back inside.

I watched the extras on the Joe Strummer dvd and that was about two extra hours. Lot’s of Mick Jones reminiscing with a pint in his hand a heavily lidded eyes. I watched the same way. Lot’s of additional camp fire interviews, mainly about what a good bloke Joe Strummer was. Especially Mick, who was endearing, watching him get a bit misty eyed when going over the old days.

Then I watched Led Zeppelin live which was tiresome since I had seen it a few times already. I went to bed when they got to Knebworth 1979, their last shows. Today I was up early, ran some errands, saw Martin Kelly working at CVS. I told him about the Individuals playing at McSwells on Tuesday and he seemed interested. I have a feeling that he’s not going to remember.

Tried watching Mad Men, a tv show that my brother Frank is mad for. I just can’t get into it. There’s something to it that I find plodding and slow. No likable characters either. I gave it my best shot and watched a few episodes that were being shown in a marathon but I just couldn’t get into it. I tried.

After that I threw in the dvd of Flesh. It says by Andy Warhol but it’s really by Paul Morrissey. Another thing I couldn’t get into. So dated and not even Joe Dallesandro’s cock was enough to maintain my interest. That cock is now 40 years older and the body it’s attached to more than likely doesn’t look the same.

After a few minutes of that I took out the dvd and replaced it with Romance and Cigarettes by John Turturro. Believe it or not, that was even worse. It was odd watching James Gandolfini sing and act as Aida Turturro’s father, as well as Mandy Moore and Mary Louise Parker’s dad. They play the daughters of Gandolfini and Susan Sarandon. It came out in 2005.

Great cast, Christopher Walken, Kate Winslet and Bobby Cannavale. Oh it was terrible. It was so bad that I couldn’t stop watching. It wasn’t bad in a good way, it was just bad.

I finally ejected the disc and watched a documentary on Otis Redding instead. I knew how that ended though. Not good.

Wandered around Hoboken, sticking to the shade. Still hot but right now there’s a nice breeze. Here’s some pics. Stay cool.

The W Hotel in Hoboken. Too big!

The light rail

Jersey City

“In 20 years all this will be underwater”

Cruising

Keepin’ it Gully

Love Plus One

It’s another scorcher, this being a Saturday. Last night was hotter, yesterday was hotter. I watched Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten. A very good documentary on the former John Mellor. Those who knew the Clash story knew that Joe’s father was in the civil service in England, Joe was born in Ankara, Turkey. Being middle class didn’t help with one’s punk credentials in England at least.

It was done similar to the Beatles Anthology, and what they did regarding John Lennon being dead. They used countless interviews to tell Joe Strummer’s story. It wasn’t all favorable. Joe dicked some people in his life and they tell their side of the story. Joe regretted some his his actions, like kicking Mick Jones out of the Clash.

The documentary was filmed around campfires, in London, Los Angeles and New York as well as other places. Mick Jones was indoors though. No campfires for him. Topper Headon, excellent drummer kicked out for being a junkie, tells of living skint while hearing Rock The Casbah playing somewhere. Joe also slept with Topper’s girlfriend, as well as other girlfriends of various people.

It was Topper’s song, Rock The Casbah. I’m sure he gets royalties, since by the time of Sandinista, all the songs were credited to the Clash, rather than Strummer/Jones, or Simonon. Not much Paul Simonon in the documentary. Thats something that keeps bands together, songwriting royalties, U2 does it. Everyone shares in the money. Joe Strummer was also upset that Rock The Casbah was being used as a soundtrack to the first Gulf War.

Songwriting breaks up bands usually. It caused stress in Talking Heads. The band would jam and David Byrne would write the lyrics and get all the songwriting royalties. Eventually they changed it to Lyrics by Byrne, Music by Talking Heads.

But the Clash dissolved, and forget about the Cut the Crap Clash, they barely got a mention. It’s a very good documentary directed by Julien Temple who made The Great Rock and Roll Swindle and The Filth and The Fury about the Sex Pistols. Worth watching if you’re a Clash fan. Some of the footage is also from Dick Rude’s excellent documentary on Joe, called Let’s Rock Again. Also worth watching.

Manager Bernie Rhodes comes off badly. He hated Mick Jones and Topper Headon and set about working Joe and Paul against Mick after Topper got the boot.

I started watching the extras on the dvd, Mick Jones getting fucked up as he tells the story of the Clash over a few hours. Really a spliff too far. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and I started to look like Mick Jones so I wound up asleep in my air conditioned bedroom by 11:15.

Didn’t sleep too well. Pillows went bad. Sometimes they just get uncomfortable. Since I was off yesterday I bought the papers instead of reading them online and saw a sale at the Newport Mall on pillows. That was my plan for the day. Make it to the mall. I walked by Mr. L, my barber and at 8:30 there were guys waiting for a haircut.

Not being one to wait, I got some bagels and the papers and came home for breakfast. An hour later I was out on the street, more guys getting haircuts. It’s so hot out that a lot of guys are getting shorn today. So I headed to the train station, walking in the shade and hopped on the light rail to the Newport Mall.

I was there before most of the stores were open. Bought some pillows on sale, bought some nice Airwalk sandals at Payless for $15.00, and microfiber underwear marked for clearance at Macy’s. I can’t wear cotton underwear anymore. I find it uncomfortable, and microfiber is more comfortable but seems hard to find. I found it though.

Made it back to the light rail, back to Hoboken where it was still too busy to get a haircut. Came home, had a bagel and decided to take a nap with the new pillows. It was a much needed nap. Had a dream that my brother Brian was calling me to tell me he had some really good acid.

I slept for 2 hours, air conditioned and happy. It felt like the nap made up for the uneasy sleep of the night before. I finally felt on track. Went out to try to get a haircut again, but still, no luck. Bought groceries and talked to Annemarie while I shopped in the air conditioned supermarket.

Mr. L’s closes at 5:00 on Saturday so I went down at 4:45. My barber, Tony was finishing up for the day. The other barber told me that I was next in line 3 times. This time I was staying. Just as well since I was Tony’s last customer. I told him to cut it all off. He knew better than to listen to me. I just got a nice close cropped haircut. Not a crew cut, more like a suedehead, and it feels great.

Add Some Music to Your Day

Damn it is hot out. Just past noon and it’s over 90 degrees inside, which mean it’s hotter outside. I just got back from the library and took a longer way home since it’s shadier. Right now I’m watching Aliens which is great.

The character of Vasquez kicks ass. She’s the tough Marine chick. I hate to see her go, she and Gorman in the vent, surrounded by oncoming aliens, blowing themselves up and taking out a few aliens in the process.

Of course it’s Sigourney Weaver’s movie and she rocks. It’s a good movie to watch. Most everyone is sweating. I did my best to hold off on putting in the air conditioner but I gave in. Right now it’s humming nicely, cooling off the bedroom.

Last night was a lot of fun. Brian Wilson at Brighton Beach. It was a free show, I met Bill there. Not too crowded at the beginning, though at the end it was a different story. Bill and I wandered around, me taking pictures of various interesting people.

One guy had a nice looking dog, the guy was a dick though. He started to complain, asking if I was taking a picture of him. I told the fat fuck, why would I do that? I said that if he gave me $5.00 I’d take his pictures before walking off telling him that his dog had better manners. That was the only trifling thing of the night and gave Bill and I something to laugh about for a few minutes.

Brian Wilson and his band were excellent. I had to explain to Bill, Brian’s story. Deaf in one ear, abused by his father, excessive drug use, overindulgence, weight problems and of course various mental problems. Bill was surprised by all that. I also explained that yes, Brian is sitting behind a keyboard, but no, he isn’t playing it. Just something Brian can hide behind.

Bill had no idea of the Brian Wilson stories, but luckily Bill knew most of the songs since it was nothing but hits. I also told Bill how the Beach Boys were the big American band for a while, top ten hits, then The Beatles hit these shores and all of a sudden there was competition that Brian was inspired by and vice versa.

It was fun to sing along with the band and the crowd to Help Me, Rhonda and California Girls among others. I gave Bill a capsule story of Good Vibrations and how it took six months to record. Also told Bill that part of the Dewey Cox story is about Brian Wilson. Bill didn’t know that but figured it had something to do with the goat.

Brian did two new songs, from his upcoming album Lucky Old Sun, one was called Southern California which seemed to be about the late Carl and Dennis Wilson. That was touching. I don’t know the name of the other song, so I guess I’ll have to wait for it to come out next month.

Bill knew some of the words to the set list too. Nice crowd too excepting the fat fuck with the nice dog which was good for a laugh. The train ride home was air conditioned, I lined up a few Beach Boys songs that the band played on the ride back, so Bill could hear them again for the first time.

Bill got off the Q train at Union Square and I rode on to Herald Square where I’d have a better chance of getting a seat on the Path train. It was interesting to give Bill a kiss good night on the train. Sometimes people disapprove, sometimes they don’t care. You can never tell. It’s a political act, kissing your same sex partner in public.

You really put yourself out there. If the wrong crowd sees it, there could be trouble. From a simple kiss between 2 men. Sometimes I’m nervous, sometimes I don’t care. I was prepared for trouble but it never happened.

I’m glad I wrote last night’s blog before since I was exhausted by the time I came home at 11:15.

It’s a beautiful yet awfully hot day. No need to go out into the world until later when it might cool off somewhat.

I was reminded of when I was growing up off from school during the summer, and my mother would have chores for my brother Brian and I to do during the day, telling us to do them in the morning before it got too hot. But being the dumb kids we were, we wouldn’t even get started until the afternoon, sometimes an hour before mom was due home from work.

And I do have to give a special mention to my brother Frank who was the biggest Beach Boys fan in our house. I wouldn’t have the appreciation or the knowledge of the Beach Boys if I hadn’t heard them so much, thanks to him when I was growing up.

Here’s some pics. Stay cool.

Brighton Beach residents

Fans queued up

Bill mid laugh. One of the things I love best about Bill is his laugh.

Brian’s in there somewhere

The Love Train over the years






Brian Wilson 2006

courtesy of wikipedia

One other thing, last night’s show was sponsored by Verizon among others(Verizon- always willing to tell the govt about what you’ve been doing). They encouraged the audience to send text messages and they were posted on screens through out the area.

Someone posted,
“We love you Brian, Love the Mansons’

Oh my god I thought that was hilarious.
Hopefully Brian didn’t see it.

Rapper’s Delight

Well I am going to see Brian Wilson tonight at Brighton beach and I doubt if I’ll write when I get home. So I’ll write now, on the sneak while at work. Last night Olbermann (bring back Rachel Maddow!), Daily Show and the Colbert Report.

Then I started watching the Shining. So goddamned good. I saw it the first weekend it came out, in Totowa with my sister in law Elaine. We were both Stephen King fans then. She might still be, I know I’m not anymore.

But wow, still a fucking creepy movie. It gets creepier as I get older and with repeated viewings. And I could swear that the first weekend had a different ending than it did afterwards.

Hotels and motels scare me to the day. Walking down empty hallways with who knows what going on behind closed doors. I had a few dicey experiences at hotels and motels. One time when I was but a kid, my parents were invited to a cousin’s wedding out in Long Island.

My parents didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave my brother Brian and I alone so they took us with them. There was a miniature golf course near by and the motel had a swimming pool. I’m pretty sure we utilized them both.

But for me, it was the first time I saw a standing shower and I had the idea to plug up the drain to see if the water would collect high enough to swim indoors. I saw it on TV I’m sure.

I set the water on and clogged the drain and watched the water start to rise. I didn’t get in though. Oh did I get my head handed to me by my brother for that. It wasn’t my finest hour, and it was totally stupid.

I do think we had it all cleaned up before our parents came home from the reception. Maybe we didn’t and maybe we left the motel in the middle of the night in an attempt to escape paying any damage charges. I don’t remember.

The other hotel story takes place in the 1990’s. A friend of mine, (let’s call her Scratchy) was having a party at a hotel in Secaucus. Kevin Craughn and I went out there one night after working at McSwells, enticed by the concept of drugs and booze.

As we rode the elevator in the indoor atrium, I noticed a security guard eyeballing me. Kinky I thought. I made an appearance at the hotel room, partied and said I would be back in a few.

I saw the guard lingering about on another floor and we played a little cat and mouse on different floors before hooking up in a stairway. He knew what he was doing and so did I, or so I thought. I offered willingly, he wanted money.

I didn’t have any money and the whole thing started to go south. I started to leave the stairway when he said he was going to call the cops. I turned and said, ‘you’re going to call the cops on me when you were soliciting me for sex?’

He tried to turn up the figurative heat but I wasn’t having it. Unfortunately I had to play the race card. He was black, and I was white, much like I still am. I told him, ‘This is Secaucus. One of the most racist towns in Hudson County. You’re going to attempt to have me arrested for indecency? Who do you think they cops will believe? You? A black security guard or me a white patron at a hotel?’

He got the picture and let me go. Don’t fuck with me. That actually happened. Not a happy story (though it is- since I didn’t get arrested), but still a story that should hold you over until tomorrow.

Uneasy Sunny Day Hotsy Totsy

Well today it was in the 90’s again, temperature wise, not decade wise. Last night was back to routine of watching Keith Olbermann followed by the Daily Show and The Colbert Report. After that, it’s all a blur. Maybe it was a documentary on the Who. That seems likely. Then it was the news and then it was off to bed. Been sleeping ok, missing Bill sleeping next to me.

Pillows don’t make for good spooning. I toss and I turn and I miss his snoring. He’ll be back in a week or two since he’s looking after his mother until the housekeeper returns. This morning, was more of what you’ve read before, showering, shaving, breakfast and no power outage.

Just don’t like that new morning team and though Otis Livingston is phoine, there’s not enough of him to get me to stay until 7:00AM. So I headed out early and caught what I thought would be a less crowded bus. Two stops later, 25 people got on making it instantly crowded. I sat there and counted each head that got on the bus.

I was reading Stuff White People Like, a book I won from The Onion. Juan hipped me to the blog, Stuff White People Like a few months ago. I was reading it, a handsome guy, could have been a bear, sat next to me. He looked sort of like Andrew Sullivan, but didn’t have the cloven hoofs.

As I read I noticed this guy trying to see what it was I was reading. I started to show him when he asked. He laughed and was familiar with the blog. I told him I won it from the Onion and went about explaining how you can win things from the Onion. I get a few newsletters each week.

If something interests me I usually enter the contest. Just send an email, with the contest listed in the subject line and voila, you too can win. I was hoping to win tickets to see Ricky Gervais live in concert, and I was going to take Harpy, but no go. Sorry Harpy.

It was a good ride, nice chatting with he who’s name turned out to be Curtis. He had a claddagh ring on which made me think he might play for my team. We parted ways and I wished him a good day. I got to work about 15 minutes early. Listened to Nick Lowe on the way.

I was busy working with Tom Chin today. We’ve been getting along lately. I wouldn’t say we were buddies, but we’ve been getting along. I sent an email, reminding everyone that I would be out on Friday. Bill and I are going to a free concert at Brighton Beach tomorrow night. Brian Wilson.

That should be fun. I was surprised Bill readily agreed to go. It promises to be a sweltering evening and it will be the first time I see the ocean this year. I was a bit bitchy this morning to various customer service people on the phone as well as the guy who makes bagels and spent some time trying to flirt with girls from Japan who don’t speak too much English.

For some reason I was singing The Bitch Is Back by Elton beforehand, so maybe I set things in motion.

I had run a few errands and soon enough the day was over. Then I walked across town, smoking a Padron and listening to Ian Dury and The Blockheads, Do It Yourself, one of my desert island discs.

That will be the subject of a future blog, like it or not. And you all better get ready to respond. 10 discs and why you would bring them along to a desert island. Not yet though, I’m giving you advance notice.

I stopped by Bill’s office, he had somethings for me and I had somethings for him. Good to see him. He looked tired though. He doesn’t sleep well on a sofa bed designed by the Spanish Inquisition.

Got on the bus as it filled up and who do I see but Curtis. Deja vu of sorts. He pulled out a copy of High Times, a bit concerned that I would turn up my nose at it. I told him I’d probably be listed in there somewhere. So we have that in common.

Curtis is a lawyer, works downtown. We talked politics. We’re on the same page, in fact he was saying most of the things that I would be saying. JFK/Obama connection, taxes, education, health care, the slow death of the middle class and of course the war.

He’s married but that didn’t matter I wasn’t into him like that. He doesn’t like being a lawyer and fancies himself a writer. I told him I had a blog and that I too fancy myself a writer. I wound up giving him advice, courtesy of Louis Lapham who gave me some advice three years ago.

So I might have a new friend, or at least a bus buddy. Not like the bus buddies I had when I lived in Weehawken. They don’t play like that in Hoboken.

Ugh. McCrazy at an NAACP convention today. Previously the NAACP gave him an F grade. Voting against the MLK Federal Holiday seven times and definitely not supporting it in Arizona. Generally not a friend to black people. Ugh.

This jerk off pulls right over the crosswalk & forces pedestrians to walk into oncoming traffic.

Breakfast in America

Well back to this again. I don’t mind. And I was happy that some people commented last night. It was good to see people taking my question and answering it, though it would have been more appropriate if it was for the previous entry, but I guess I’ll take feedback whenever I can.

I did find out that I’m younger than bhikku. One or two years but all this time I thought he was the same age as me. So once again I am the youngest, unless Juan posts and I know I am older than Juan. It’s been that way most of my life, the youngest in the room.

Of course I spent a lot of time at senior centers so that made sense. I wonder how it will be when I am in the senior center, not visiting but actually residing there. Though tonight I wasn’t the youngest when I went to get coffee beans from Empire Coffee in Hoboken for the office.

Jeff was there and Jeff is younger than me. He’s also dazzled by my tales of McSwells and the music business. I asked him how the Vaselines were and it turned out he got there too early, had a few beers too many.

It wasn’t crowded so he took a walk and when he came back it was crowded. He wound up behind the pole in the back room and not seeing much of the band. He heard Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam and one other song when he felt he heard enough and drunkenly weaved his way back home to Jersey City.

He’s a good guy and I enjoy regaling him with stories of the bands I saw in the heyday that was McSwells. At least the ones I can remember. Work was work was work. Need I say more? You know I eventually will.

Last night I watched Weeds which was hilarious. Best episode this season so far. Nancy kicked Celia’s ass and knocked a tooth out of Celia’s mouth. Andy accidentally shot a coyote (someone who sneaks illegal immigrants into the country) in the knee. Andy got his Foghat belt buckle back and his $6.00 from the coyote. Justin Kirk rocks by the way.

After that I watched Diary of a Call Girl which is very good but I usually have to be in the mood for it. Like sex I guess. I don’t go out of my way to watch it, but if it’s on I generally enjoy it. I can’t wait for Juan to see the latest episode of Weeds.

This morning I am happy to report that there were no power outages as I got ready for work. Though it promised to be in the 90 degree area, I wore a long sleeved French cuff shirt and my pinstriped trousers. The trousers used to be cuffed but I had the tailor remove the cuffs so I have an extra inch or two at the bottom of my pant leg.

Still throughout the day, I worry that they’re too short. I wear a 34 length pant, and this is like 32.5 or 33. I constantly need to check through the day.

It’s just as well that I don’t have cuffs on my trousers, since when I do wear them cuffed, as I walk one foot gets snagged and I stumble, and me, being big and goofy, I look like a real doofus when that happens. Usually I look like an unreal doofus, which is what I’m comfortable with.

Ran some errands today which was nice to get out of the office. Ran into Vinnie a guy I used to work with. He’s doing well and looking good. He said to tell you he said ‘Hi’.

Downer

This car runs red lights. Be on the look out.

Whats in the pocket?

This possibly didn’t end well.

Punked tattoos

George Bush, our idiot at the G8 Summit closing last Friday:
“Goodbye from the world’s greatest polluter!”

cut n’paste

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/environment/article4305290.ece

also related

cut n’paste again
http://www.independent.co.uk/environment/climate-change/antarctic-ice-shelf-collapse-imminent-866504.html

I Will

Writing a little later than usual tonight. Actually went out and did something after work which didn’t involve just going home. No, tonight I had plans to meet Rita for dinner. Apparently she’s just like me, go to work. Go home. Repeat five times a week.

So tonight since she’s off from work Sunday and Monday and I was going to be in the city anyway for work, we decided it would be as good a time as any to meet up for a supper.

But of course, me being me, there’s usually something in the way.

Last night was very quiet. Bill in Stuyvesant Town looking after his mother, me at home watching Where Angels Go Trouble Follows (WAGTF), and I really appreciate all the comments regarding the first movies you all saw for the first time in a theater.

I had no idea that there were so many readers closed off from society when growing up. I mean it was really sad. I don’t know what was sadder, me expecting some responses, (a single response would have been nice not counting Betty who couldn’t figure out how to post after reading the Laughter Yoga link I provided) or no responses at all.

I’m basically a slave to this blog now. It consumes my life, everything I see and experience throughout the day I consider it for this blog. Things were going well, I had comments from four people generally. Not consistently mind you, but feedback means that someone has been reading this. It crushes me when there are no comments at all.

Now that I am coming up on posting 1000 entries, perhaps it’s time I give it up. I’ve proven to myself that I can write at least 500 words a day, but without comments or feedback I feel I am writing to myself, for myself.

I was just hoping for some sort of interaction with the 6 people that sometimes read this. I figured writing about the first movies that people had seen in a theater would be a good way. Boy was I wrong. My sister gets a pass since she’s on vacation without a computer. And because she’s my sister.

Don’t worry, I’m not expecting an avalanche of comments saying ‘ no don’t give it up’, in fact I’m not expecting comments of any sort at all. I will be taking on co-editing another blog soon enough, something that you probably won’t know anything about since I don’t plan on writing about it here.

So anyway, after WAGTF, found myself watching Lawn hors d’oeuvre Criminal Intent which was good but sicked since Bill wasn’t around to watch it with me. Almost got caught up in another episode, but wound up watching a documentary on National Geographic about earthquakes. Very intense.

Then I went to sleep. Woke up at what I thought was 4:00 AM and looked out the window. Was the sun up then? Was I dreaming? It looked foggy and the sun was coming up. I wasn’t sure and went back to sleep.

2 hours later I was awake, it was raining hard out. I shuffled about, wishing I had the day off, but not really since no one is around to share a day off these days. After showering and futzing about, the lights went out in my apartment.

I hoped it was the whole building, or the whole city, but no, it was only my apartment. I didn’t want to have to go to the basement and flick the switch so I did my best with the little sunlight coming in through the windows. After 20 minutes I knew I would have to go downstairs.

Got my shit together with a flashlight and trudged down 5 flights to the cellar and flicked the switch and climbed up 5 flights of steps. Ate my breakfast, finished getting dressed and was soon out the door. Looked in my bag for my umbrella but couldn’t find it so it was up the stairs again and got a back up umbrella.

By that time it mainly stopped raining. I read on the bus, Simon Rich ‘Ant Farm’ on the bus ride in, pretty funny stuff, very short stories. Martha Keavney would like it I think, but who knows what Martha Keavney likes these days? She could be an anthropologist on Mars for all I know.

I read about the New Yorker to do. The cover had Barack Obama dressed as a Muslim and Michelle Obama dressed like Angela Davis. It’s the New Yorker. It’s satirical. They didn’t get it. Obama’s camp upset. McCrazy even weighed in saying it was wrong.

G. Gordon Liddy loved it, saying it was the first time the New Yorker was right about anything. Lot’s of press for the New Yorker including a lot of people who never read it, or heard of it before. Work was busy and that made the day fly by.

I was soon walking across town from Third Avenue to Ninth Avenue, enjoying a Padron and listening to the B-52’s which I had also burned for Rita. Had a good time with Rita at the Film Center Cafe which was showing Marie Antoinette in honor of Bastille Day. The 1940’s version, not the Sofia Coppola version.

After dinner I walked Rita home, sitting outside her building singing a Beatles song. I could have gone up and met her dog Lulu and seen Rita’s boyfriend Jerry, but no, I had to come home and write. I finished the Simon Rich book on the bus ride home.

Happy Bastille Day

You’d Better Move On

A lovely Sunday afternoon, especially if you’re in the shade. It’s in the upper 80’s but it’s not humid. The sun is beaming. Once again I liberally put on sun block if I’m going to be outside for an extended amount of time. I wrote yesterday about having sun poisoning a few times when I was growing up. It was bad.

As far as I knew, or my family knew was the only thing known as sun block was called shade. But we never rented an umbrella when we would go down to Wildwood Crest years ago. My family would go down for the VFW convention every June. It was usually a good time, that is when I wasn’t burnt to a crisp.

It was an alcoholic weekend for most of the veterans and their wives, leaving their kids to run around careless and carefree. We would drive down on a Thursday and come back on Sunday. One time I was covered in blisters due to a bad sun burn. A lot of people had different remedies, Noxema, rags soaked in tea, rags soaked in vinegar.

It was so bad that you could feel the heat emanating from my body by holding your hand about 5 inches away from my skin. I did love going to Wildwood Crest despite often coming home smelling like bacon.

Another time, years later I was visiting my sister Annemarie in New Hampshire and we decided to go to the beach in Maine a few hours away. I put lotion all over my body, but forgot my feet. A few hours later my feet were swollen so much that I had to wear my mother’s fluffy slippers for about 2 weeks.

Good times.

These days I walk in the shade.

Today I watched Mad Max on cable. Great movie, but The Road Warrior is the best out of the 3. Beyond Thunderdome was crap, dreadful stunt casting of Tina Turner. Boo! And the children! We don’t need another hero, my ass!

It’s too late for it but a movie about what happened to Max between Mad Max and The Road Warrior would have been great.

My good friend Rita called. I’ve known Rita since the early 1980’s. We were in a band together. We were called The Nift. What is a nift? I couldn’t tell you. Just a nonsense word I made up. We never played anywhere except a rehearsal room.

I wrote a song with Rita’s sister in law, Loren, and we covered Anytime At All by the Beatles and Gloria by Them. We had a pretty good drummer, Dave who was more insecure than the 3 of us combined.

We were all too insecure to play anywhere though we entertained the idea of playing McSwells eventually. I haven’t seen Rita in a few years so we’re planning to have dinner tomorrow night at the Film Center Cafe.

Rita used to be a teeny bopper hanging outside whatever hotel the Who were staying at in the early days. She has lot’s of stories to tell. Her brother Ronnie used to be a staff photographer for Columbia Records back then and also freelanced for Tiger Beat and 16 I think.

Rita and I had an idea to write a book with Ronnie’s photographs and Rita’s anecdotes, but alas it went along with the Nift, into the dustbin of history.

I also heard from Lois, another old friend. Lois got married to her longtime paramour Fred in May and they”re having a party upstate somewhere on August 2. I told her I was planning on going, Bill- I wasn’t so sure about. She was happy to hear that at least I was coming.

Lois asked me if I could DJ and I said yea, but I’d only bring my iPod. She offered to pay my expenses, but I don’t know what expenses there would be. I asked Rand, who is officiating the ceremony for friends and family to bring his iPod, figuring that between the 2 of us, we’d have enough songs between us to handle any Tarantella or Electric Slide.

If you’re looking for any Alley Cats or Hokey Pokey, you’d better move on.

Right now, Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows is on Turner Classic Movies. This was one of the first movies I ever saw in a theater. The now gone Century Theater in Paramus.

I think Annemarie and our brother Brian went as well as some of the Foglio girls who lived down the street from us. They were waiting for a bus when we picked them up.

The other first movies that I saw in a theater were The Jungle Book, The Happiest Millionaire and Oliver! At least that’s what I remember.

What are the first movies you saw in a movie theater?

Cut n’ paste this! Do it! NOW! hee hee:

http://origin.times-standard.com/lifestyle/ci_9868162?source=email

Here are some pics. Have a good week.

Last night’s moon

Today’s Empire State Building

Yesterday’s mural

Tomorrow’s memorial

Next year’s sail boat

Love Will Find A Way

On TV right now, Karl Rove’s dancing partner, David Gregory is mourning the death of the Bush administration’s mouthpiece Tony Snow. I am not mourning. He put forth the lies of the Bush administration and enabling the mess that we are in right now. Blood on the podium in the White House press room. No sympathy for the devil here.

Last night was mellow indeed. Bill napped as we watched Rachel Maddow filling in for Keith Olbermann until Olbermann goes on vacation again. After that I had a surprise for Bill who woke up in time for the theme song to ‘Maude’, the tv series starring Bea Arthur in the 1970’s.

Adult fare then, probably wouldn’t last in this day and age. So odd to watch a show with a live studio audience when most comedies these days go without a laugh track, at least the shows I watch. I could only bear 2 episodes.

Bill asked why and I told him I didn’t want to get caught in a time warp. 2 were more than enough. I wouldn’t watch the others unless maybe Bill was around, and he’s with his mother this weekend, so I guess I won’t be watching.

It’s funny how much of my liberal outlook was formed by Norman Lear’s liberal outlook. I guess I watched shows like Maude, All in the Family, Good Times and The Jeffersons while growing up. I preferred them to shows like Happy Days and Laverne and Shirley. Peer pressure dictated that I watch those shows, though I drew the line at Three’s Company.

After all the TV was my babysitter most of my life, being a latch key kid. I’m not complaining. I’d would rather have been aware of issues that were going on in the 1970’s then a fantasy from what is now 50 years ago.

And yes, Adrienne Barbeau had a very large bust. I never noticed it then for some reason. I only noticed last night since I heard so much about them. Today was mellow yet again, Bill off to take care of his mother. Me doing laundry, running errands.

A nice cool day, but a beaming sun. I’ve become wary of the sun lately. Can’t be out in the sun like I used to. Not good for the skin you see, and having had sun poisoning a few times in my childhood, a visit to the dermatologist is somewhere down the road for me. I expect to have things taken off my body sooner or later.

I’m not worried, it seems to be a routine thing lately. After years of being told to go out and get some color, it’s like the Woody Allen joke from Annie Hall where he says all the things our parents told us that were good for us, really aren’t. Sun, red meat etc. I went bike riding around Hoboken this afternoon, putting sun block on beforehand.

Crossed paths with Rand and Lisa who were prowling around for gate sales. Slim pickings this afternoon. We parted ways, meeting up later for a couple of Mojitos. I rode off to Pier A and read some of the latest Mojo Magazine, specifically the 20 years of Sub Pop Records being around. Sub Pop won it’s first Grammy for The Flight of the Conchords. A comedy Grammy last year.

I saw quite a few Sub Pop bands coming through McSwells in the late 1980’s. Mudhoney, Nirvana, TAD and a horde of others that really didn’t do a thing for me. I think that was when I started becoming disinterested in the alternative scene then.

Alice in Chains? Give me a break. I couldn’t care less. And today I still feel the same way. Even with Nirvana, I like some of their songs, but not all of them.

Speaking of junkies, I finally finished Tweak. It was a good read, albeit unnerving. Nic Sheff comes out alive at the end, and I really wish he stays clean and sober. I recommend it, as well as his father, David Sheff’s book, Beautiful Boy.

Now I have Simon Rich’s Ant Farm, a collection of humorous short stories. I read something he wrote in the New Yorker a week or so ago and thought it was hilarious, so I ordered the book from the library.

Support your local library. They could probably use the support.

Here’s some pics.

Nappy Bill

Authorized Personal Only

“It’s buried underneath a big dubya…!”

Who ordered the beefcake?

Beware of Darkness

It’s finally Friday and we all give thanks for it. Who do we thank? I don’t know, I’ll just put it out there in the ever expanding universe. Not that the universe runs on an earthly calendar. Could be a Mayan calendar, but I doubt it.

In any event, it’s good to be home and resting. I just ordered Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros for my brother Brian’s birthday present.

Hopefully it will get to Hillsdale by Thursday and hopefully his son Brian won’t open the package thinking it’s a present for him. Little Brian’s gift is a gift card from Pac Sun, his sister Cassie got $2000000.00 and my niece Cory got $30000000.00 since she’s an adult and could use the money for gas or whatever. I just hope they don’t cash the checks.

Brian’s oldest daughter, Hillary has her birthday at the end of July which gives me some breathing space. The four birthdays in the middle of the month lightens my wallet somewhat. I’m glad the rest of the birthdays are spread out through the year.

Today was a bit of a purple nurple. Slept well, Bill was off to work, kissing me goodbye as I said hello. I got motivated and did my thing and was out of the apartment before 7:00 since I don’t like the morning show team on TV. They changed some anchors and they didn’t ask me.

I rode the bus, reading about the saber rattling towards Iran. Man this country is in a mess thanks to that buffoon on Pennsylvania Avenue.

The headphones I bought a few weeks ago are shot, or at least on their last legs. Made listening to David Bowie a little bit difficult but I managed. Work was quiet since it was a Friday. Most of the major players were out, still some were in.

I entertained the idea of leaving early today, like around 3:00 but having only worked four days this week, it didn’t seem likely. Last week I dropped off my eyeglasses that I got in November, broken arm on the frame. Evan who seems to like me a lot said he would have them fixed.

Today they came in and I went across the street to pick them up. They looked brand new as Evan cleaned off the lenses, mentioning that the lenses are no longer a problem. They were not fully in the frame the whole time I had them and I thought thats how they were supposed to be.

I walked out of the store, into the sunlight wearing my like new specs. I came to the office and they seemed a bit dirty so I cleaned them. Still dirty. Cleaned them again and I noticed they seemed stained. I went back across the street, the lenses were dislodged again.

I spoke to Evan who said he’d order me new lenses. I was frustrated and called my insurance company to find out when I would be able to get a new set of lenses. That wouldn’t be until November, at least the getting the prescription, and actually getting a new set of glasses wouldn’t be done until January.

Since I had the insurance company on the phone I asked how my appeal for my dental work was going. I resubmitted my claim in June. They told me once again that since I had two procedures done on the same day my claim was rejected.

I resubmitted with a letter from my dentist while explaining that while I maybe out of the network I was saving them and myself money. I got a letter from the insurance company today telling me I have to submit my periodontal chart as well as the x-rays.

I have to do this myself, the dental school doesn’t do paperwork. So I have to make arrangements to go to the dental school and pick up these items next week.

I didn’t leave the office until after 4:30 this afternoon. I had my Padron and walked across town, not staying around for Manhattan-henge. That’s when the sun is in a perfect position as it sets and all the cross streets in the grid of Manhattan are illuminated with sunlight.

I came home on a crowded bus, trying to read Tweak while next to me a woman standing up, her purse kept landing on top of my book, making it difficult to turn the page. She of course was oblivious. I came home and decided to have hot dogs for dinner.

Then I realized I let Bill finish off the bread leaving me without bread. Out to the supermarket where I ran into Stine and Alexander, making the end of my day so much better than the day that came before it.

Here’s some snaps

The Kiss Army at 7:30 waiting for Gene Simmons to show up at 12:30.

The shin

My building reflected

No Xmas for John Quays

Last night, I didn’t get to sleep at all. No, no. Well the hole in the street got bigger and at 11:00 there were two jackhammers going off. Bill, slept right through it, with the windows open five floors above.

I was towards the back, in front of the computer, TV on and I needed to close the windows to hear the TV. We slept with the windows open a little bit. They must have finished working around 11:30. We haven’t put the air conditioner in the window yet, just getting by with fans which is nice. I haven’t had the fear of the window unit falling out and killing someone. It’s something I obsess about.

Before that we watched Nova Science Now, hosted by Neil de Grasse Tyson who you might recognize from his appearances on the Daily Show and The Colbert Report. He’s an amiable chap and reminds me of Bill. He reminds Bill of Bill. Bill mentioned that he could have hosted the show, but I had to remind him that he’s not an Astrophysicist. Something he had forgotten.

I watched the final disc of Michael Palin’s New Europe. He was in Prague and East Germany, winding up in the former East Berlin. One of the people he visited was a holocaust survivor who was in a propaganda film from the early 1930’s about how well the Nazi’s were treating the Jews.

Fooled most of the world as well as the Red Cross. Footage of inmates tending gardens, harvesting food that they couldn’t eat. If someone stole a tomato they would be punished and sent to the camps for extinction.

Then Michael Palin took part in a Laughter Yoga session which was quite the opposite of the Nazi footage. My sister has been involved with Laughter Yoga in Arcata and she’s been enjoying the benefits.

It was interesting to see how a Laughter Yoga session proceeds. It’s laughing and clapping and maybe a little sing song in German. Or if in Arcata, more than likely English.

Then it was the news in a stuffy apartment with jackhammers muted through closed windows on a summer night. The uneasy sleep I had certainly was a contrast from the night before of spooning with Bill. And it set the tone for the day today.

I was just a little bit out of it. Did my job but really could have used an hour or two more of sleep. But it was too late for that. It was Thursday so I saw West Indian Tony and got my egg sandwich, surprisingly Tony didn’t ask about Bill. Just as well I was out the door and headed to work.

It wasn’t humid as it was the past few days and while I still had to change my t shirt when I got to the office, I wasn’t sweating as much. The day didn’t fly by and it didn’t crawl either. Thursday not only means an egg sandwich from West Indian Tony, it also means penne, pesto and chicken for lunch.

I have such a boring appetite. It’s a healthy appetite mainly. Salads everyday except for Thursday. I also try to keep it cheap.

The day finally ended, and I left work, walking across town, taking various snapshots as I enjoyed a Padron 5000. Saw the homeless guy I see almost everyday who calls me ‘soldier’. He started calling me that months ago while I was in a suit and tie, and now it’s every time. He salutes me and I give him some change.

Got on the bus crowded yet air conditioned, cracked open ‘Tweak’ by Nic Sheff and of course, he fell off the wagon and started shooting up meth again as well as just about anything he could get his hands on. Most everyone around him is telling him he’s making a big mistake, but he’s fallen in love with a fellow junkie and that leads to yet another relapse.

Stupid kid. Junkies ruin everything.

and how about that Jesse Jackson? Asshole or what?

Snaps!

A scary looking storm that passed overhead

11:00 PM

Tony Plana (the guy who plays Ugly Betty’s father)

Regurgitating

Mr. Softee (Elaine!!!)

How can these guys wear suits in 80 degree weather?

Now that’s more like it

An arm

A belly

I’m Waiting for the Man

Bill is laughing. He’s on the couch, we’re watching Scrubs, from the first season. Turk just used a defibrillator on a patient who was actually sleeping and woke up screaming from the electric current. Bill loves it when someone screams in a comedy. He screams in kind. A happy scream.

Last night I watched Rachel Maddow on the Keith Olbermann show. She’s great, we love her. After that I watched Dan Abrams. Just got caught in the political maelstrom I guess.

Then came Weeds which was the best episode of the season so far. Really funny and a cliff hanger at the end and good bye Albert Brooks. I can’t wait for Juan to see it.

Soon after that it was bedtime. Bill ably portrayed the lump on the left side of the bed. It was a good night’s sleep. I wound up hugging Bill at various moments in the night which was very nice. He was off to work bright and early, leaving me with a pot of coffee just waiting for me.

I was up and showered, shaved and out on the street before 7:00. Rode the bus, started the New Yorker and walked across town in the morning heat. Didn’t sweat as much as yesterday but still needed to change my t-shirt when I got to the office.

Set things up, machines running, me drying off in front of a fan. No autographs this time. The office is now occupied by 5 different companies. I am supposed to only support my company but being the office manager, everyone comes to me.

Most of the time it’s fine, they’re generally nice people. 5 companies with a total of 20 people. Not too demanding. I don’t mind helping them when asked, but I find it annoying when certain companies just expect me to be there for them, when I don’t work for them.

That was laid out last year by my boss Greg Stevens who told me, that I only work for one company. I try to help out when I can. Niva, who was let go at the end of May, called and asked if I could print out some reports that we subscribe to. It was all very hush hush.

But I printed them on a color printer and left them on my desk when the managing director saw the copies and told me to print them out in black and white, that the color copies cost a dollor a sheet. They don’t really, but he was making a point.

I told Niva when I saw her, that next time they’ll be in black and white. She didn’t care, just needed to be on top of things in the bio-technology world while she goes job hunting. She looked good with a new hair do though.

After work, a Padron 5000 and a visit to see Jesse, my Rasta buddy. Of course Jesse was late. I waited and finished my cigar and headed to the Path train where I sat in an air conditioned car and read Tweak.

Almost done with it, still harrowing, waiting for Nic Sheff to fall off the wagon. Not wanting him to, but sort of expecting it. About 100 pages left so there is plenty of time.

As we were about to enter the Hoboken station, they announced that there was a problem with a train in the station and that we were being diverted to Journal Square. That sucked.

I got off at Pavonia/Newport and waited with a crowd for the light rail back to Hoboken. Could have used another cigar but didn’t.

Walked to my building where there was another hole in the street where they were working on the water line. My building was fine, still have strong pressure.

Now I’m chillin with Bill laughing on the couch. Life is good. Time to get jazzy.

Here are some snaps from today.

Picture of tourists

Public art on Park Avenue

(your title here)

Outside my building

Big hole in the ground

This just in:
JESSE JACKSON. WHAT THE FUCK??????

Sorry about the source material. But WTF?

Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick

Back to work today and today was hotter than yesterday. Oh it was a real scorcher. I did my best to stay in, but having been away form the office, things needed to get done. So it was off into the sweltering sun, bank deposits needed to be made. I wandered over to Syms where they’re having a big sale non suits.

I checked it out, didn’t see anything to my liking though I did buy a nice set of braces which I look forward to wearing when autumn rolls around. They are autumnal looking. Oh and by the way, braces is another name for suspenders.

Suspenders usually conjures up jokes regarding firemen and red suspenders.

Yesterday I went to Burlington Coat Factory and bought some nice trousers and a nice shirt which I wore today. Unfortunately they were dark colors, and for all the jokes I have made about people wearing dark colors on days like today, I wore dark colors on a day like today.

And I wore some nice looking loafers, but they were the wrong type of shoe to wear while traipsing around midtown in 90 plus degree weather. Now my feet are killing me. Actually they were.

Now I’m ok. Also took a shower when I came home from work which felt great. Basically I am toast right now. Just burnt out from the heat and the sun. Not sunburned though which is a very good thing.

Work wasn’t bad at all. I was told how lost all the people in the office were without me and it showed. No one makes coffee like me. No one could figure out the coffee machine.

I think they will need someone to fill in for me when I take some days off in August. I have to start the ball rolling on that soon enough.

I did have to stop off and pick up coffee for the office so I stopped in at Empire Coffee in Hoboken. I get along really well with Jeff who’s always trying to impress me with the music he plays in the store.

Today he made a point to play the new Beck cd. I had read that it was his best since Sea Change. The thing is, I hated Sea Change. I think I played it once and filed it, never to be heard again. Such a downer.

Jeff explained that it was produced by Danger Mouse, who I like and that the beats were up beat, while Beck’s lyrics were downbeat. Doesn’t seem likely that I would be buying that cd anytime soon.

Jeff is going to see the Vaselines at McSwells tomorrow night and he was super psyched. I wished him well as I walked out the door.

Right now, it’s twilight, the sun sinking over North Bergen and Jersey City in the west. A nice breeze comes in through the window, Rachel Maddow is substituting for Keith Olbermann. She rocks.

I prefer her much more than bellowing Keith Olbermann. She’s nice and very smart and witty. I guess the country isn’t ready for a woman hosting a news program, much less a lesbian hosting one. Their loss is actually, our loss.

Now, Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick. It’s nice to be a lunatic.

Just been thinking about Ian Dury lately.