Archive for January, 2010

Hole in My Shoe

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

Well here I am in the apartment, in front of the computer again. Tomorrow I start the new job. Yes I am anxious. How could I not be? After 7 months of not working, jumping back into the world of employment can be nerve wracking.

It’s not that bad though. I’m just nervous about waking up in time or rather on time. I’m sure it will be fine. A few friends have stated the same message, I will be fine, it will be fine. Bill started it last week, as he was kissing me goodbye in the morning while I was still in bed, that my days of freedom were winding down.

It should be an interesting scenario nonetheless. I haven’t decided what suit I am going to wear, but more than likely I will be wearing pinstripes. Still time to decide that.

Last night in case you didn’t notice, I’ve started animating the reading of the blog. At least yesterday’s entry, Beast of Burden. I started animating Ruby, My Dear but it was quite wordy so I stopped midway through, with the reader saying that it was Part One and if you want to hear Part Two, contact John Ozed.

No one wants to hear Part Two I guess, since I never heard from anyone. It’s inspired by Martha Keavney’s series, The Andromedans. I was up until almost 3:00 last night watching Now Voyager again while fine tuning the 2 animations I made last night. Didn’t get as much feedback as I had hoped, but like this blog, I will persevere and carry on regardless.

Last night before Now Voyager I watched Saturday Night Live. John Hamm was the host and he was funny in several bits, the Digital Short was pretty funny as well. Sergio!

Bill was sleeping in Atlantic City as I wrote yesterday.

He made it home safely this morning and went to bed. I headed up to the Last Sunday of the Month Shakespeare Reading at McSwells. Once again organized by Lois, this month we read The Taming of the Shrew. We started out with 7 readers, turned into 8 when someone showed up late.

Lois went all out, with many index cards with each different character spelled out. I wound up having about 9 speaking parts, most of them were only a few lines, other parts had lines throughout the play.

I used different voices again, I played Baptista with an effeminate lisp, Christopher Shy as a cockney, the merchant as a wise talking 1920′s character, the widow as a Python woman and the haberdasher with a cookie monster type voice.

There were a few other voices thrown in here and there, covering for Rand when his two characters wound up in a dialogue with each other. It was fun once again. The only thing is no one except for a few of us, heeded Lois’ instruction that we use our outdoor voices.

Mainly it was a couple of women who just used their everyday speaking voice which didn’t help when the noise of the restaurant got louder. That was a bit frustrating and I held off on requesting that they speak up.

Me & Rand

Me & Rand

1.31.10 Shakespeare Mxwls 012

1.31.10 Shakespeare Mxwls 013

Taming_of_the_shrew

Back to work tomorrow! Whee!

Beast of Burden

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

On Facebook there is a theme, put up a photo of a celebrity that you look like as your profile picture. I can’t do that there, but here I can do it. I’ve heard that I look like Philip Seymour Hoffman & Drew Carey.

At the play reading I had participated in the other day one of the audience members said I looked like Jim Carrey, then he corrected himself and said Drew Carey.

Drew Carey

Drew Carey

I’ve found in these two specific instances that it can be broken down into two groups. Black people think I look like Drew Carey and white people think I look like Philip Seymour Hoffman. I myself tend to think if I’m to look like either one of these guys I would prefer Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Philip Seymour Hoffman

Philip Seymour Hoffman

I do feel slightly insulted when I hear Drew Carey.

One time, years ago I found myself in a gay bar on the upper east side on 58th street called Oscar Wilde. It was the only gay bar that I knew of that served Guinness at $4.00 a pint. One night I’m just hanging out after work and next to me at the bar is a very drunk patron who claimed to be Carlo Gambino’s son.

Carlo Gambino

Carlo Gambino

I just nodded slowly as he slurred his words. On the TV at the end of the bar was an episode of the Drew Carey show. The younger Gambino turns to me, then to the TV, then back to me and says, ‘You know who you look like?’

I knew exactly what he meant even though that, I believe was the first time I ever heard the comparison. I guess the reason I would prefer to be compared to Philip Seymour Hoffman is that I prefer his work to Drew Carey’s.

The other day after hearing about J.D. Salinger’s death, I read a few obituaries bout him. One of them mentioned a fellow college student of Salinger’s recollection of Salinger walking around the college campus wearing a black chesterfield and walking with a cane saying he was going to make literary history.

JD Salinger

JD Salinger

A  burgandy Chesterfield

A burgandy Chesterfield

Me, not Drew Carey nor Philip Seymour Hoffman wearing a Chesterfield, not a couch

Me, not Drew Carey nor Philip Seymour Hoffman wearing a Chesterfield, not a couch

And I suppose he did. I never read The Catcher in the Rye. Most people have to read it in high school but I didn’t. I don’t think it’s because I went to a catholic school since I think other classes did read it. Not sure if I missed anything.

Salinger doesn’t really come up in conversation these days anyhow. Well actually because he recently died he comes up in conversation but other than that, not really.

It’s been a cold day today. Only went outside once or twice. And that was more than enough. Too bitter outside. Bill is driving to Atlantic City tonight once again. I’m content to stay home.

I figured out why my feet are so cold in the apartment. Cold ceramic tile above an vacant, unheated apartment. Well that is what Julio mentioned the other day.

I just had a nice spaghetti dinner with some home made sauce that Stine made. Quite nice and perfect for a cold night such as this.

Beast of Burden, a reading.

Ruby, My Dear

Friday, January 29th, 2010

Thank goodness it’s Friday. Been a while since I’ve written that. I’ve worked 4 days this week, and with 3 days last week I have a total of 24 hours under my belt. Already it’s more than an unemployment benefit.

Oddly enough, I’m not as tired as I’ve been the past couple of days. Pretty much awake. Last night was quiet mostly. Bill was off to see a rock and roll guitarist friend of his friend Tom, at the Bitter End. I was asked to go, but it was at 10:30 and I didn’t want to go.

If I couldn’t get it together to see Karen Kuhl last week with Alice Genese, I’m going to get it together to see somebody I don’t know? At the Bitter End? Oh I think not. I was more than content to stay home. Bill came home, then went out again which is more than I would do. Generally, once I’m home, I’m home.

I just watched TV and actually went to bed before midnight. It was something definitely out of the ordinary. Haven’t been to bed before midnight in months, at least not when I’ve been out of work. It was all good since I had to be at Greg Stevens office at 10:00 this morning.

I was out of bed before 8:00 this morning, got it together and was out headed to the bus stop at 9:00. It was 16 degrees out and I put on some thermal underwear under my blue jeans, thick socks, a long sleeved cotton shirt and a sweater on top of that. And a wool hat, my pea coat, gloves and work boots. Once again, affecting the longshoreman look.

Comfortable on the bus, reading the last issue of 2009 of the New Yorker and started on the January 4, 2010 issue. Nice to be in the same month and the same year. I’m catching up. Sat in the back of the bus where there’s more room and more comfortable.

On the bus my cellphone rings. It’s my old Rasta pal Jesse. He hasn’t heard from me in a while and was just checking in. At least that’s what I thought he was saying. With his patois and the noise of the bus I couldn’t really hear him so I told him I would call him back in 10 minutes when I was off the bus.

When a Rasta calls so early in the morning, I felt he couldn’t have good news. I thought, someone must have died. I hung out with a group of Rastas in the day with my friend Miriam and thought I was going to have to call her with bad news.

When I got off the bus I got back to Jesse, who like I initially heard, was just checking in. No bad news. He was wondering how I was doing. I said I was fine and would try to see him after I get through with my project today.

I hustled through Grand Central Station, using it as a short cut to get in from the cold. As I walked up Third Avenue, my phone rings. It’s 10:05 and it’s Greg Stevens wondering where I am. I was a block away and was in his office in 5 minutes.

Alex, an IT guy was there helping Greg with his computer. Or rather was setting Greg’s computer up, with Greg just standing there. Greg doesn’t know computers at all, in fact the other day I had to explain over the phone what a lap top was.

I set about unpacking the moving boxes and Greg made himself scarce. After an hour or so, Greg was en route to the Hamptons and Alex was done doing as much as he could. He’ll do more next week when the Los Angeles branch of Greg’s company is in, after being out this week.

I had a break and wandered over to Cohen’s Fashion Optical where I got my glasses a year or so ago. A few months ago, my glasses fell apart. One of the screws became loose and fell out rendering them useless.

I did my best, took a screw from an older pair of glasses and somehow, without wearing glasses was able to get a screw back in. But it wasn’t the right size screw and left my glasses a bit lopsided. So I went back to the store and explained what had happened and low and behold a few minutes later they fixed the glasses and they were as tight was they were 2 years ago.

Still a bit scratched even though I’ve used special cloths to clean them. While they were fixing the glasses they asked if there were any frames I would like to see and so I looked around. The woman behind the counter was helpful but came up short when I explained that I didn’t want any brand names on the side of my glasses.

No branding for me, thanks. I left the store with coupons for a free eye exam and a 20% discount on my next frames.

I did some more work at Greg’s office and submitted my hours. Also decided to send an email to a recruiter that I was in contact with a few months ago. Cathy Cline.

Cathy was the recruiter who was disappointed in me when I went behind her back and contacted the employer since I thought Cathy was bullshitting me.

She called me the next day and chewed me out, mentioning that she knew how hard it was out there to get a job, even her son was unemployed. Presumably still unemployed since his mother wasn’t getting him a job. I did try to remain in contact with her, wishing her a happy holiday and also mentioning that I was still looking for a job.

She never responded to me.

I sent an email that was written like it was a form letter, thanking her for all that she had done for me and that I had a new job that I would be starting next week and should I need staffing, and I would be in the position to choose staffers (a lie) I would keep her in mind.

Almost immediately she responded. Not to reply in kind to any holiday greetings, or any encouraging words regards to job searches. Just congratulations. I had to laugh.

I left Greg’s office around 3:00 leaving it looking like an office rather than a collection of moving boxes. On my way out, I talked with Eric who was sitting at the front desk. He works for a company called Regal which rents out office suites to small companies that can’t afford expensive Manhattan office rents, which is where Greg Stevens is now located.

I told him I had a friend who was starting a job with a company called Executive Suites, one of their competitors. Eric said he’d rather work at Executive Suites. I asked him why and he said he was the only guy in an office surrounded by women and their drama. He also didn’t like the artwork on the walls of the office. I didn’t think it was so bad. A Hopper print in the kitchen area, a Miro print in the hallway.

I guess I’ll find out about Executive Suites on Monday, when I start.

Back out in the cold I walked my old route to the Path train. Now I’m home, feet are still cold despite wearing socks and slippers, and waiting for Bill to come home.

It was a good day overall.

In The Flesh

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

Thursday. Woke up when the alarm clock went off. Looked out the window and it looked foggy which was odd. Shuffled around the apartment then I wondered why I was up so early and went back to bed for another 45 minutes.

When I woke up again it was a full blown snow storm. That was a drag. I had to rally myself for the interview scheduled for 10:30. Thought about canceling the interview since I already had a job scheduled to start, but I got it together and headed out. It wasn’t too bad, just a wet sticky snow.

I forgot my umbrella and just trudged onwards towards the Path train. I was wearing a wide brimmed hat so that definitely helped with the snow. Got a seat on the train and got off at Ninth Street. It had stopped snowing in the city and the sidewalks weren’t slippery at all, just wet.

I was about 20 minutes early for the interview so I just stood outside and talked to Bill on the phone for a while. The place where I interviewed is diagonally across the street from Wolff Olins. I thought about stopping by then I thought again and asked why would I do that.

I headed upstairs to the the 10th floor at 225 Varick Street. Dismal building, even more dismal office where I waited. So this company would hire me and send me out to wherever or whatever company would require my services.

I sat and read the New Yorker from last month. Finally Tim McSorley cam out and got me, leading me into his office. He offered me a water or coffee and I politely refused. He went and got his own water, leaving me to sit there. His office was shambles, wires all over the floor. I guess it was an improvement, other people were in cubicles outside on the floor.

Nice guy though, a lot more pleasant than he was on the phone. Tim McSorley doesn’t give good phone. The interview didn’t last long since most of the questions were done over the phone.

I was out of there in about 20 minutes and headed over to a newsstand to see if they had Uncut magazine. Apparently it’s unavailable in the tri-state area. I walked over to the West 4th Street subway station and waited for the E train uptown to Lexington Avenue.

Made my way into the office, Greg Stevens wasn’t around. He was in earlier but I guess he went to the racquet club. I got his things together and waited for the movers. I did go out to pick up some lunch and got a phone call from the girl who works for Vivek.

Apparently the building management didn’t know Greg Stevens was moving out today even though I set the whole thing up last week. The left a message for Vivek and he called them. He was intentionally left out of the loop by yours truly and almost messed up all the plans I made.

I called the building manager reminding her that I called her yesterday but she was out. She mentioned that we wouldn’t need to reserve the freight elevator since there wasn’t that much to move. I got that taken care of and shortly after that, the movers came and packed things up, putting chairs under blankets and onto dollies.

Goodbye 800 Third Avenue.

I met them a little further up Third Avenue and they moved everything in with skill and speed. Greg was soon off to lunch with his brother but before he left he asked me about how much I was going to get at the new job, leaving me to believe that he was ‘fishing’, perhaps to hire me as his assistant. It would be nice to work for him, after all that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 3 years.

But that all remains to be seen. I might bring it up again tomorrow when I help Greg Stevens unpack his office.

It was a busy day for sure and I am pretty tired. Feel like falling asleep now, at 6:30, but if I did I know I would be up at 11:00 and unable to fall asleep again. So I will stay awake. I know in a little while I will get my second wind.

JD Salinger is dead. I never read The Catcher in the Rye, because I didn’t have to. Most everyone had to read it in high school, but not me. And when I heard that that was the book John Lennon’s killer was reading at the time of the murder, I never wanted to read it, ever.

Add It Up

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010

It’s now a Wednesday. Last night was quiet. Just watched TV. Bill came home from seeing his mother. He’s making a point to do that at least once a week. He’s also seeing his cousin and her family at that time so it works out well for everyone.

I was home, a bit tired, after getting ready with Greg Stevens on his move. Not hard work but the trucking back and forth wore me down. I watched TV, O & RM. Bill came home in time for Rachel. I had enough news at that point but Bill wanted to watch it so we did.

Then at 10:00 I put on the Heroes episode from Monday night. Still lacking in luster. And of course, the last minute or two was cut off. Sort of like, ‘And the murderer is…’ Stay tuned for the Jay Leno Show! It’s happened so often that it’s become a joke around here.

Bill was busy getting some things ready for his friend Rome Neal’s one man show about Thelonious Monk called Monk. I’ve seen it a few times. Bill has been Rome’s trusted stage manager for the show for a long time, but the next show is in Rochester and Bill can’t make it so he’s been transferring things to CD’s so Rome can take them on the road.

After the 11:00 news I put on a recording of Scrubs: Med School. It takes place after the original show with Turk and Dr. Cox as well as Bob Kelso and the Todd reprising their roles. JD & Eliot have made appearances before. It’s OK. Not totally in love with it, but then I haven’t been following it much. Bill didn’t know anything about it so it was a kick for him.

He went to bed after that, wearing the sleep apnea mask which was great. A nice night of sleep. Of course there was the weird dream involving an old friend of my Simon Paterson. He was a special friend. Had many late nights with him.

A strange relationship though. Haven’t seen him in years and I don’t think he’s seen me in years either. At one point in the dream he produces some powdery packets and offers them to me like back in the old days, but in the dream I was saying that I don’t do that sort of thing and that the glasses he was wearing made him look like Bobby Womack.

It was a dream that probably had references to another friend, no not that type of friend, just another party person from the McSwells days. I ran into him, known as Midday since that’s when he usually got out of bed.

We were both waiting for the bus and comparing our lives. He’s been married for 10 years, me and Bill will have been together for 10 years in September. He used to party in much the same way I did and just like me, he doesn’t anymore. That conversation probably popped into the dream.

This morning I was up and started making the coffee when the phone rang. It was Brenda from back in the Wanker Banker days. She saw via one of the social networks that I’m on that I have a job and asked how it was going. Surprisingly I was able to answer her questions coherently without any coffee.

She was at her job and couldn’t talk much so we ended the call with me promising to call her back, which I haven’t yet. Had some breakfast when the phone rang again, this time it was a follow up call after the phone interview from the other day.

Tomorrow I have a face to face interview. This time with some guy named Tom. It’s at 10:30 so after that in a suit & tie I will supervise Greg Stevens move. I of course got worked up about the interview. I always think that I have the job.

Then I realized that I do have a job lined up and if the interview doesn’t go well, well I still have that job on Monday. Saw Stine and Alexander on the way to the park. Walked them over and played with Alexander for a few minutes.

Stine looked great and Alexander was the boy wonder, climbing over everything and ignoring me. I did get a high five and when I left I said Bye Bye. Stine couldn’t get him to do the same but when I was 20 feet away I heard a Bye Bye. Then at 30 feet, then at 50 feet. Each time I turned around and saw Stine laughing as I waved back.

Spoke to Bill about the interview tomorrow, me making a big deal out of it. Spoke to my brother Brian which was really good. His eldest daughter is looking at college. Yikes! By the time I made it to Greg Stevens office he was off at the Racquetball Club.

I don’t think he plays racquetball though, just the gym and sauna. I packed some boxed and got other things ready for the move.

Spoke to Bill again and told him I realized I was making too big a deal out of the interview. Now I’m home, watching the Simpsons ‘Mr Scorpio!’ and that’s about it.

Rest in peace, Howard Zinn.

That’s the Way

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010

OK, when last we left off I was getting ready to head into Manhattan to meet up with Bill and head up to Harlem. It had finally stopped raining and the temperatures were in the upper 50′s. Blue sky as the sun was going down and it felt quite nice.

I headed over to the Path train since it was too late to catch the bus. I walked over listening to Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, No Quarter: Unledded. Not too crowded heading into the city, going against the flow.

Reading Chris O’Dell’s book, Miss O’Dell. She was an employee at Apple records, friend of the Fabs and their wives, among other rock and roll groups and people. Fun, gossipy stuff.

When I got to 33rd Street I noticed the people coming down the stairs were all wet. Yes it started raining again. Not as bad as it was earlier in the day. I had my trusty umbrella and headed up to 42nd St, still listening to Plant and Page.

I was a bit early and decided to sit in the alcove next to Bill’s office building. It wasn’t too cold, still in the 50 degree range, so I sat and continued reading. A few people walking through, and one of them caught my eye.

It was Alice Genese, whom I’ve written about before. Always good to see Alice and we chatted. She had played at McSwells with Karen Kuhl last Friday and I apologized for not going, explaining that I really don’t go out anymore and plus I couldn’t afford to go out.

She understood and asked what I was doing sitting there. I told her that I was waiting for Bill before heading up to Harlem to help out with a stage reading of a play. I also expressed my nervousness but Alice was reassuring, saying that it would be fun and I would be fine.

Which is what a few people had told me in the comments previous, including Andrea Harbison and my brother Brian.

Bill came out a little while after Alice and I exchanged hugs and kisses and we headed over to the uptown train. It was of course a crowded train and as we rode uptown Bill asked if I had any questions about the role I would be reading.

I didn’t have any questions, just nervous. We got off at 145th Street and St. Nicholas. The theater for the Harlem School of the Arts is only a block away. We got inside one two or three people around, one of them an actor who was playing Barry that night.

A little while later the rest of the cast had shown up. The play was titled Ebony for Ivory and takes place in Asbury Park in 1968. Bill was in director mode, announcing that from now on he would be calling us by our character’s names.

The guy playing Barry was Lawrence in real life. I was Wiley, an apt name for my character since he’s a slimy manager of a sculptor named Rudy. We started before most of the audience came in since time was tight and we only had the space for two hours.

My lines began on page 38 and as I followed along I made mental notes to myself that my lines were coming up in 24 pages, 23 pages, 22, 21…

Everyone was doing a good job, being actors they read with emotions and passion and if I didn’t know what to do beforehand, I knew that whatever I did would be reacting to how they were acting. And that is something that Bill said a few days before, that acting was basically reacting.

My lines finally came up and I did my best to say what was on the page, clearly and loud enough for the audience to hear. Barry and Wiley had some head to head moments, Barry a young wanna be Black Panther and Wiley an older slimy business manager screwing his client.

It went well, and I was very happy I highlighted my lines. Barry had a big chunk of lines, all in a block and I wondered why that block couldn’t be broken down into paragraphs.

I mean, I write this blog, first in a block using a Word program to count the words as well as to spell Czech. Then I break it down into paragraphs as Rand suggested years ago when I started. Much easier on the eyes and easier to read. But Lawrence, playing Barry got through it just fine.

His scenes with Rudy and Sharon, playing the older adults of the teenage Ebony were intense and on point, as were the rest of the cast. Before I knew it we had read the entire play. The cast left the stage and sat in the audience as the playwright Kevin and the director of the writer’s workshop, Gordon Lee Thompson Sr and Bill sat and took questions and criticism from the audience.

Time was of the essence and after that we all headed out of the theater. Bill and I talked with Lawrence by the subway, with Lawrence hanging on the suggestions that Bill had to offer him.

I thought Lawrence was great, handling both the passion he felt for Ebony and rage he felt at the tragedy that ensued to be amazingly powerful. He’s only 19 but if he keeps at it he can go far.

Bill and I rode the train back, Bill was impressed and happy with my performance, telling me that I was good, good enough that the audience groaned when my character said his tacky lines, screwing Rudy out of his place in the art world. I didn’t hear the groans as I was too concerned with the words on the page.

I asked if I read too fast, if I misplaced a word or added a word but it didn’t really matter. I had stage fright for sure but once the play started to be read, there was no time for that. It really was an exciting experience and I could only say that I couldn’t have done it without the excellent cast seated next to me.

It was a high of sorts for me.

Bill and I came home in time to catch the second half of Keith Olbermann. Bill went to bed soon after and I joined him midway through Craig Ferguson.

The weird dream last night or rather this morning involved Julio and Stine who were upset with me since I wouldn’t join them in worshiping Mort. I annoyed them by singing songs from Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar.

Mort from Bazooka Joe

Mort from Bazooka Joe


It was all rather sinister with music!

Barry, Wiley, Rudy, Director Bill, Playwright Kevin, Sharon, Ebony, Pauline

Barry, Wiley, Rudy, Director Bill, Playwright Kevin, Sharon, Ebony, Pauline

Gordon Lee Thompson Sr, Kevin Eugene Franklin, Bill Vila aka 555

Gordon Lee Thompson Sr, Kevin Eugene Franklin, Bill Vila aka 555