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It

Monday, May 31st, 2010

Well I am better today. Still a little bit nervous about tomorrow and the return to school. Last night was a bit of a low until I took half a Xanax and then things got mellow. The melancholy edge was gone but it still didn’t help me enjoy (500) Days of Summer.

It simply wasn’t as good as I had hoped it would be and I do like both Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon Levitt. I just didn’t care for it, the story or the characters. I watched the news after that then a repeat of the last episode of last season’s True Blood. Now that was good.

After that I was off to bed where I slept quite soundly. I don’t recall any specific dreams from last night but the night before I did have a dream involving the family dog, Bojo, from when I was growing up.

Bojo was quite a neurotic dog and the only person in my family that he actually liked was my mother. That was because she was the one who fed him all the time. In the dream he was quite a friendly dog and living with Bill and I in the apartment and he would slip and slide on the tile floors.

I made a note of it, waking up and writing it down in the notebook I keep next to the bed.

I woke up this morning with Bill walking into the bedroom after returning home from yet another bus driving gig to and from Atlantic City. He was checking in on me since I seemed so morose when we last talked.

I woke up and showered as Bill sat on the couch and watched Wacky Races in the Cartoon Network. I woke up in my usual crabby mood, but still it was better than last night. Bill went to bed and I was out on the street after a couple of cups of coffee to get some milk for my cereal.

On my way down I saw the door to Julio & Stine’s apartment slightly ajar. I knocked and Stine came out and told me Julio and Alexander were at the park. I headed there and talked to Julio and pushed Alexander on a swing which is something I always wanted to do, push Alexander on a swing and talk to Julio. Or vice versa.

Got the milk and the paper and came home and had a nice breakfast. For some, the Memorial Day weekend is the start of summer, for me it’s like the end of summer and I’m going back to school tomorrow. And by school I mean work.

Bill woke up a few hours later when I had Zoolander on. Bill had never seen it before and loved it. Really loved it, so much that he was howling. It is a silly movie and enjoyable. I suggested we take a walk around Hoboken which is something we should do more often.

I gave Roda a call since he mentioned he was having a cookout today and he invited us over. Lot’s of people and family there and we were most welcome. I had two and a half spiked punches and was feeling a nice buzz.

After an hour or so we said our goodbyes to Roda and his family and had a nice dinner at Arthur’s. We would have eaten at the cookout but Bill wasn’t particularly hungry at that time. After walking around Hoboken some more he was hungry.

It rained a bit while we were in the restaurant but had stopped after we ate so we continued our walk around Hoboken, on Pier A. I spotted the dreaded Mister Softee and had to express my feelings somehow. It seemed most apt.

Now we’re home. Lawn Hors d’œuvre Criminal Malcontent is on so Bill is happy. Me? I’m anxious about tomorrow and the new job. Perhaps a cigar will be relaxing.

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Your Eyes

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

I’m pretty tired. Pounding the pavement today. It actually went well. Walked from the Path train to 40 Wall Street, where I took the elevators to the Third and Fourth Floors.

It wasn’t the dank hole I expected it to be and I didn’t see any dank holes like I expected to see. I don’t know why the Susquehanna Investment Group has such a bad reputation.

You might think that a privately held global investment, trading and technology firm servicing securities markets worldwide would have their slack cut for them but apparently that’s not so.

Arthur Dantchik, Jeff Yass, Steve Bloom, Eric Brooks, Andrew Frost and Joel Greenberg all sent their warmest greetings and regards. Yass and Dantchik are a pair of regular jokers, with the knock knock jokes and other Pennsylvania humor.

They seemed like good guys though behind closed doors, the refrain of ‘watch the teeth, watch the teeth’ did raise some eyebrows. I didn’t stay too long, just long enough to make my presence known. Susquehanna Investment Group certainly gets it’s name in the news often enough, oddly though it doesn’t involve insider trading, at least not yet.

Soon I was on my way to Broad Street, to Barclay Rex. Nice situation, Wall Street area, good looking men in their suits and ties. I’d be happy to be one of them should the need arise. I had a good meeting with the manager and the assistant manager.

Never had a meeting before where I was offered a cigar. Of course I said yes and sat there smoking a cigar and answering questions. I answered honestly and truthfully and that seemed to be what they wanted to hear.

No trying to figure out what that might be, just saying it and them looking a bit amazed at my responses. After about an hour our meeting was over. They said I could sit there and finish the cigar so that’s what I did.

Walked over to the train and headed uptown. Saw David Allen Grier on the street as I made my way to see Bill. Also took a look at a spot where Tariq said he sometimes plays for the tourist dollar but the only people besides tourists were sketch artists.

It was good to see Bill. He’s so supportive, saying things about how good I looked and really happy to hear that the meeting went so well. I was certainly glad to be able to tell him some good news for a change, especially after me being a bit gloomy the past couple of days.

We walked over to Godiva where Bill bought a bag of dark chocolate truffles for me. They were almost as sweet as Bill. Walked over to Macy’s after that. They’re having a sale on eyeglasses so I checked them out. Of course the frames on sale were crap, and not my style.

I did see some nice ones that were more expensive and maybe the insurance will cover them somewhat. Despite all the care I put into the eyeglasses I have now, somehow they’ve wound up scratched. And I rarely used paper to clean the lenses, always used the special cloths that were recommended.

Maybe I’m paranoid but one of the last times I was at Cohen’s Optical and had them fix a screw, I could swear they were given back to me more scratched than they were originally. Another meeting is scheduled for next week and Bill suggests I wear the exact same thing for my ‘call back’. Seems like a novel idea.

In that case, I had better get the shirt and tie to the cleaners forthwith!

Forsooth!

That's my Bill

That's my Bill


Me, smoking 'their' cigar

Me, smoking 'their' cigar

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No New Tale to Tell

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Wednesday. For some it’s hump day. However, for a lot of people it’s just Wednesday. It’s been an alright day. Not too cold, not too warm. Of course it could always be better.

Not much to write about I’m afraid. Is there ever much to write about? Is it all just gathering threads and trying to join them up, sew them together and make a nice fabric out of it? Is it the fabric that matters? Or is it the sewing?

These are the matters that spring from my mind and travel to my fingertips.

Listening to an interview with Brian Eno, something from about 20 years ago I think, rebroadcast on a Minnesota radio station on a show called Speaking of Music. It’s about a 2 hour interview, basically reviewing Brian Eno’s work and life up to that point.

Eno has a nice voice to listen to and since it’s an old tape that was digitized and playing on my Frankenstein computer occasionally a glitch pops up and Eno goes ‘Hmm Hmm Hmm Hmm’ for a few extra seconds.

It seems to be recorded live in an auditorium before an audience of Eno-philes, laughing at just about everything Eno has to say.

I’ve taken to listening to podcasts while I eat dinner instead of the news. Usually I watch the Ed Show at 6:00 but since the Olympics are on, I’ve listened to discussions. It’s a nice change of space.

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Eno when I worked at Skyline Studios. I remember reading an interview with Eno in Trouser Press, and the wrote about how Eno would tear off the filter of his cigarettes and smoke the unfiltered bits, and there it was, an ashtray with torn off filters.

He was working with Laurie Anderson at the time and both were incredibly nice. Both of them signed records that I asked them to sign and occasionally when money is tight, I look at the Eno records and wonder how much money I could get for them.

I’m sure he wouldn’t mind and definitely would understand the situation that I would find myself in. But I haven’t gone so far as to look into eBay and seeing what I could find there. Perhaps one of these days.

I’ve also caught some Oprah lately. Yesterday I watched people getting makeovers, helped by Carson Kressley from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. I never could understand how people get surprised when they open the door and there is Carson Kressley.

My main problem is the fact that the people are filmed from inside their homes, a camera man a few feet behind them. Do these people have camera men in their living rooms all the time? Wouldn’t they think that something was up, I mean, why is there a cameraman breathing down their necks?

It was the same thing when after the Super Bowl, Bill and I watched a TV show about the CEO of a company working down in the ranks, with the people that inhabit the bottom end of the totem pole. This one guy we watched, worked for a week at different parts of his company.

And all the time, he was followed around by a camera crew. Now if someone was a new person at a company, wouldn’t you think something was up when the newbie would be tailed by a camera crew?

Aren’t any eyebrows raised?
No yellow cards?

It’s easy to overlook the camera crews for most, but obviously not for me.

Today on Oprah was the son of Jim Jones, named Jim Jones Jr. He was in Guyana when the People’s Temple were killed or committed mass suicide.

He would have been in Jonestown when it all went down, but was instead in Georgetown playing basketball which in effect saved his life, but made him feel guilty and never played basketball until years later when his son was on a school team.

The other guest was the sister of John Wayne Gacy. She of course had her own tale to tell, about how she didn’t believe that her brother killed 33 men and boys up to a point, but eventually had to admit it to herself.

I’m just grateful that my nearest and dearest aren’t sociopaths.

Hello to Sao Paulo, Mission Viejo, Warwick, Chiang Mai, Eureka, Petaling Jaya and of course Bala Cynwyd.

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Just A Minute

Monday, January 11th, 2010

It is back to work for you lot. But not for me though. Once again on the outs with employment. It’s a Monday. Things got better between Bill and myself which I wrote about yesterday.

He was upset that the full time bus drivers pulled rank over the part time drivers. I can’t really blame the full timers. If I was in their position I would more than likely be trying for some overtime.

Occasionally I flashback to when I worked at Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, my first job. Dave Manzo, my comically inept supervisor would ask around 4:00 if anyone wanted to work overtime. I usually raised my hand.

Things in the warehouse would be quieter and calmer. Sometimes I would work until 6:00, other times until 7:15. And yes, I would work on Saturdays as well, from 8:00 to 1:00. Most everyone would leave at 4:15 in the afternoon, and at 4:30 there would be a 15 minute break.

It was a decent job, though I have no contact with anyone from those days. I worked there from 1978 to 1984. Both my brothers also worked there as well as my mother. My brothers and I didn’t work together though, not during the same time period.

I used to dream about going back to the warehouse but I haven’t lately. I suppose my time of working there was part of my formative years. High racks of books and materials, 100 feet high. A very rough estimate since I can’t really tell how high things are, especially from 25 years ago.

I do think it was one of my better jobs (maybe I’m just being naive, and it was a different time) and I left while the leaving was good.

Last night I had 2 dreams related to being a DJ. The first dream concerned me spinning records at McSwells again, but this time in the front room, and not just in the front room, but alongside in the cafe area. Not enough room actually for my records or whatever I was using as turntables.

I was set up in the front room despite the fact that there was a poetry group going on at the same time. They weren’t too happy about it. Chaz and Andy the sound man were involved with the dream, as well as the angry poets.

I think Bill had kissed me goodbye which was an intermission of sorts regarding the dreams. After Bill left for work, I carried on dreaming, this time, being a DJ in Lodi, in my parents house, with the DJ set up in my parents bedroom.

In the dream I spent a lot of time on our back porch looking for a Grace Jones record as well as being on the phone with Pedro who was bemoaning the fact that he was looking for a job. I told him I had a job for him, nudge nudge wink wink, but he wasn’t at all into that sort of thing, just like in real life.

I remember these dreams since I’ve taken to having a notebook next to the bed so I can write these things down.

Right now I am watching disc 2 of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, all about the effects which were so well done you couldn’t really tell that they were using special effects, or more precisely, CG effects.

I watched it again last night with Bill and once again I was choked up at the end. Bill was surprised by that and said it was reminiscent of how choked up I was at the end of final episode of Six Feet Under. And I can definitely understand that.

If you saw the finale of Six Feet Under you would probably understand by what that meant.

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Hitherto

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

Gonna ramble. Here goes. And there I go. Just an aimless sort. Stream of consciousness stuff. Haven’t done it in a while. A good way to clear the decks. If you’re not into it, you might as well stop right here.

Or Here.

Who do I wrote for? Me or you? Hard to say since the rules keep changing, the margins keep moving. Things appear and disappear.

Saw Eddie Rodriquez in the supermarket. He and his wife and his Alzheimer’s afflicted mother. I saw the mother in a wheel chair just staring into space and when I asked if she needed help she just stared. I asked again before I gave up.

I didn’t see Eddie down the aisle with his wife and he came up and said hi. He too is unemployed as is his wife. She’s been out of work since October 2008, and he’s been out since January 2009.

Makes me feel like a newbie since I’ve only been out of work since July of last year. I feel like a schmuck bemoaning my fate, when people like Eddie and his wife, and yes, even Harpy have been out of work even longer than me. But they’re in their world and here am I, in mine. Most of us have the same stories, except for Harpy of course.

Saw on TV a former friend, in the NY Gilbert & Sullivan players commercial. Actually I didn’t notice the former friend until Rand pointed it out. Hail hail the gang’s all here indeed. I used to shoot video for this former friend.

The friend became former since he was quite underhanded to a mutual friend who was sharing his bed. The friend didn’t think sharing the bed would be THAT way but the former friend has designs that where heretofore unknown, hence the falling out and my siding with the friend. I was out of the McSwells scene in 1996 by then anyhow.

And the former friend was forced out for being a douche bag to Steve Fallon, exiled to Jersey City. Now he pops up on TV.

Today was a walk around Hoboken to the supermarket. Not the one around the block but the one farther away. Did not get what I expected, thought that there was a sale but there wasn’t. Somehow I misread the info.

Presently uploading Bob Dylan: The ‘Royal Albert Hall’ Concert from 1966. I bought it when it came out as Volume 4 of the Bootleg Series. I think I was working at Arista Records then and drove some of my coworkers crazy by playing it.

I think sometimes people don’t ‘get’ Bob Dylan at first. I know it took me a while. Now I really appreciate him and truly love his latest stuff. The 1970′s things I generally ignore at the moment. I have Blood on the Tracks but I rarely play it.

I like the 1960′s and 1990′s stuff and of course the 8th volume of the Bootleg Series, Tell Tale Signs is one of my favorites from last year and that’s a collection from the late 1980′s to the last decade, which may or may not be known as the ‘naughts’.

Just stood up from the computer and looked out the kitchen window where much to my surprise I could see directly into a neighbor’s window. Luckily I’m not the type to see what other people are doing since I don’t want other people to see whatever it is I’m doing, which right now is sitting in front of a computer writing.

ozedBanner

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Tramp The Dirt Down

Thursday, December 10th, 2009

Last night was an interesting night for lack of a better word. As furious as Juan was when he came over, he calmed down enough to be hilarious. Actually I think both of us were hilarious. Sometimes the hilarity subsided when he had a phone call from some family member.

Juan was kind enough to go into the bathroom and talk on the phone but as his anger returned his voice got louder and the acoustics in the bathroom accentuated his ire creating more of a noise than it would have been if he was sitting right next to me.

Plus the neighbors probably heard everything perfectly. At least they would probably have something to talk about since things are generally pretty quiet here with Bill and myself. I had to go knock on the door and tell him to take the call in the bedroom which was a bit quieter for the residents of the 5th floor.

He was soon back on Earth and settled on the couch where we watched episodes of The Office which I had saved for moments like this, when Juan was over. Also posted one or two other new links to the blogroll regarding Hoboken blogs.

Blogga please!

Juan was on yet another call (for which he was ultimately apologetic for) in the bedroom when Bill came home. Bill was happy to be home and showed me his New Jersey Driver’s License which establishes his new residency as one of those who live on the mainland. Nice picture too.

He had his Subway sandwich and Juan sat next to him on the couch and we watched Elvis Costello Presents Spectacle. It was the first episode of the new season, last night’s guests were Bono and The Edge from U2.

It was enjoyable, Bono was as usual talking most of the time. Elvis and the Imposters played Mysterious Ways by U2 and at the end both Bono and The Edge did a duet with Elvis singing a medley of Pump It Up/Get on Your Boots with a little bit of Subterranean Homesick Blues thrown in for good measure.

Juan then checked his 7000 emails from school and I sat on the couch reading about Tom Petty in Mojo which did not publish my letter about the Specials this month. The Simpsons came on, the Lord of the Flies episode which was not as good as most of them despite the promise. I had to send Juan home after that. I was tired and needed my sleep.

Last night’s cannabis free dream was a Zombie dream that took place at a besieged 13 Riverview Avenue, the house where I grew up. I was grateful it wasn’t Zoombies but rather the slow walking Zombies.

It was a relatively quiet day. I walked around Hoboken a bit and found that I like startling people by saying ‘Good morning’ or ‘Hello’ when I pass them and catching them looking at me.

Old people are usually pleasantly surprised when they hear it and usually reply in kind. Younger folk have no idea what to say.

Spent a lot of time in front of the computer, probably too much. Got tipped by Jeremy at Good As You about some geezer on his front porch, smoking a butt and dispensing his views on gay marriage. After watching the video on YouTube, I had to unleash the sock puppet.

The geezer was upset by what the sock puppet had to say and then posted an even more heinous video wishing death to queers, homosexuals and lesbians, despite saying in an earlier video that he loved his late epileptic bisexual brother.

The sock puppet reminded him that he was in effect wising his brother dead if his brother was still alive, since he felt that the granting of a civil right to gays and lesbians would infringe upon his rights.

That’s the point that is so stupid.

Well, that point as well as the point they try to make that being gay is a choice.

The sock puppet had to ask when did he decide to be straight?

I mean if sexuality is a choice, isn’t it a choice for everyone? Or was he like Larry Craig, who felt that the louder he protested against gays, the less likely people would think he enjoyed performing oral sex on men in public rest rooms.

Oh he short circuited and shut down. It was a fun way to spend this afternoon, tramping down the dirt on some red neck geezer from South Jersey.

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