Back at the cigar shack. Thomas is playing his tunes on his iPad. I was usurped by a customer who always asks if he could play his iPod, always all over the place from Esperanza Spaulding to some Latin jazz to Earth Wind & Fire.
The customer knows I am not too keen on playing his stuff since I do spend my own time when I am home making play lists, tailored to the tastes of the customers or the staff. Of course Zack’s tastes take preference over anyone else’s since he is the manager.
I suppose that is a holdover from DJing at Maxwells. Knowing what bands were playing, I would try to bring records in that reflected what type of music the audience would be into or where the band was coming from music wise. It worked 99% of the time, but the last time I DJ’d it really didn’t work.
A year or so ago, I DJ’d a benefit for a local musician with Parkinson’s Disease, and had fallen in love with Shakin’ All Over by the Yardbirds earlier that week so I think I might have played that one too many times. No one said anything and it wasn’t until a day or so later when I realized that I probably should not have played that particular track, more than once.
I used to do the same when I carried my tape deck on the bus with me to school, always trying to play songs that my fellow students would be into. I didn’t really play Black Sabbath, mainly a little bit of Led Zeppelin and quite a few Stones songs, mainly from Some Girls which was hot at that point. Definitely could not play any ‘Punk’ or New Wave stuff since that would have caused a whole bunch of trouble for me.
When I started working and before I had a car I would troop up Rochelle Avenue to the Garden State Plaza to buy records at Sam Goody and then cross the cloverleaf at Routes 4 & 17 to go to Alexanders to buy records for $4.99, all the time with a boom box resting in the crook of my arm. I later found out I was known to people in Rochelle Park as ‘that guy with the boom box’. So music has always been a major part of my life.
If I go to a gay bar & I do not like the music I generally don’t enjoy myself. If I hear something I like or know I really light up. But I am not really hearing it right now. Actually I am since Thomas is playing The Postal Service so that’s nice.
A little under 40 minutes to go. It certainly was a weird day here in the cigar shack. Nothing too bad but was there really a need to have Bradley, Thomas, Jerry Vale & myself on all day today? Bad planning on someones part (hey Bradley). I just want to go home and chill out.
The ibuprofen that was given to me has done the job. 2 more tablets to go. The tooth or at least the space where the tooth was seems to be feeling okay & healing nicely. a couple of 100 years ago I would have my teeth pulled & my haircut by the same guy in the same chair.
I also saw Bill this afternoon for a few minutes it was quite nice. Inspired by the photograph of the Marine coming home and giving his partner a great big kiss, I gave Bill a great big kiss outside the cigar shack.
And my friend my friend Bruce stopped by and asked me to include him in tonight’s entry so here it is. Hello Bruce. 07 Aikea-Guinea
Well it’s been an interesting 24 hours, and I was too busy to write. Today has been a day off, a Saturday and I have off again tomorrow, thanks to my planning with a schedule request. It was a busy enough day yesterday at the cigar shack and much to my surprise it was yet a nother good sale day for me. I had to open the store and that meant getting up an hour earlier and getting to work, two hours earlier.
It was fairly quiet in the cigar shack for about an hour, no one really coming in. Then things picked up right before Thomas arrived. I hit it off with the customers mainly which was the most likely reason my numbers were so good, no need for Saudi royalty.
Being the first one in meant that I would have to take an early lunch, so I went to the diner which certainly more packed that it usually is when I get there around 3:00. For a change of pace I had pancakes and coffee, which seemed like a good idea at the time but a few hours later I was hungry once again. I had a banana as well as a sample of the 5 Hour Energy Drink that I got the other day and that on an empty stomach made me feel like Ricochet Rabbit.
The plan was the since I was getting out at 7:00, Bill was going to meet me at the cigar shack where we would then walk down to Times Square enjoying cigars. I hardly ever have my phone on me while working and sure enough, Bill left a message. He was in Hoboken after running around after work and when I had finally gotten in touch with him a little after 7:00 he was then at 34th Street in midtown.
He was going to come up but since I was vibrating and off the clock as well as anxious to get out of the cigar shack, I told him I would meet him at the club where the party was. A co-worker of Bill’s was having a surprise party at BB King’s nightclub, the co-worker’s husband put it all together, including music by the Fab Faux, a group of New York City’s top session men performing Beatles songs note for note.
I started walking down the avenue when Bill called. He was at 53rd and Broadway and would meet me there, and from there we would still walk down to BB King’s and smoke our cigars. It was awfully nice but I was tired and hungry and still vibrating. It was very crowded on the streets leading into Times Square so we walked over a block where it wasn’t as populated.
We finished our cigars outside of BB Kings and after we checked our coats, we found a place where I could sit for the first time in hours. Bill was ready for a Guinness which they didn’t have so he settled for a Corona. I just had a diet Pepsi since I hadn’t eaten.
There were a lot of people and there were some appetizers making the rounds, but they never quite made it to us. So we decided to go to the appetizers and promptly stuffed ourselves which cleared the way for some Corona action. The Fab Faux came on and were just as good as I thought they would be, deviating from the set list and going all over the place with the Beatles catalog.
The co-worker was dancing up a storm along with most everyone else. It really was a fun time and Bill really enjoyed it too, especially when he knew the songs like Come Together and Revolution. We left as they finished Get back and walked over to the bus terminal where we were soon on a bus headed back to Hoboken.
A busy day at work and a fun night with Bill. It was great. We both slept quite soundly and I woke up at 8:30, then closing my eyes for five more minutes which turned out to be 90 minutes. I padded through the apartment, making coffee and jumping into the shower. Outside it was snowing but it was not sticking.
After a cuppa I got my coat on to head out to the supermarket, kissing good bye to Bill as he slept and berating him when his eyes opened for not making me coffee. The supermarket was not crowded at all and I was soon climbing the stairs with dry cleaning and groceries. Bill was up by then and I checked my phone were there was a text from RoDa.
Today was Saturday and we did have a plan to make it into the city to see the Doug Wheeler installation. We figured that if we went early there wouldn’t be too long of a wait. RoDa and I made plans to meet on Washington Street and head over on the Path once again. Bill and I headed out a little before 1:00 and met up with RoDa and his son Logan.
We walked to the Path train, with me making a very quick stop at the record store to get the latest Mojo and Uncut magazines. Once in Manhattan we hopped on the bus to 18th Street and 12th Avenue, walking around the block to the Don Zwimmer Galleries.
And this time the line was on the sidewalk , in the cold and damp. We took our place and while waiting a gallery employee came out and told all of us in line that the wait would be 45 minutes to an hour, and then there is another line inside. If the weather was more comfortable we probably would have stayed but we were all pretty much cold and damp and then there was Logan who is only 7 years old and we all knew that he would not really have the patience for such a wait.
It was decided that we would bail once again. Bill had other plans anyhow to work on a script he has been cultivating so he was going to his office in midtown. RoDa, Logan and I opted to take the Path back to Hoboken. It’s been a full day though nothing really was accomplished though I guess getting the four of us together, Bill, RoDa, Logan and myself was an accomplishment in itself.
Not writing tomorrow, a day off, unless there is something really worth writing about and I hope there isn’t. Like Dorothy Parker said, ‘I hate having to write, but I love having written.’
It has been a nice day off. Last night when I came home I was very tired and feeling a bit under the weather. Bill did his very best to make sure I was alright, to see if there was anything I needed. Basically he did all the things that I do for him when he is feeling unwell. I certainly appreciated it.
He stayed up for a little while making sure I was alright and I was, just a little out of it. I went to bed earlier than usual and was still a bit stuffy when my head hit the pillow. Bill of course was fast asleep and I soon joined him in the arms of Morpheus.
Last night before Bill went to bed he got all of his things together since he was driving to Atlantic City tonight and didn’t want to run around this morning. He leaned over and gave me a nice kiss as he headed off to work. I slept a little bit longer before I too got out of bed and started my day.
The only thing I had planned was a trip to the supermarket and some laundry. The supermarket was a brief visit which included seeing my girl, Isis. After that I was home and eating a nice breakfast in my slippers. I actually did go out a few times today, a trip to the bibliothèque where I ran into Mike Cecchini. He had a lot of books checked out and I was only there to pick up a CD.
And it wasn’t the CD I had hoped it would be. In the 1980’s Lou Reed took part in a salute to Kurt Weill, called Lost in the Stars. Lou sang a great version of September Song, arranged by Hal Willner I think, possibly one of the best things Lou Reed had ever done in my opinion. I had the original on vinyl after hearing it time and again on the jukebox at Maxwells back in the day.
But after moving several times and shedding a few pounds of vinyl as well as a turntable I no longer had the track available to me. After searching online I saw that Lou Reed singing September Song was available on a different compilation, a different salute to Kurt Weill. Alas, it was not the same version, this one was slower really dragging and not to my liking.
Apparently this was a new version and lacked the snappiness of the original cover version. Despite being disappointed I still listened to the whole thing and it’s not half bad, it’s just not what I wanted. I plan on dropping it off at the bibliothèque tomorrow morning when I walk to the bus stop again.
And after a day of feeling alright most of the day, the stuffiness returns to my head, though not nearly as bad as it was yesterday. I am definitely doing the right thing (and did the right thing) by doing most everything on a low flame today. I must save my resources for the upcoming weekend at the cigar shack. 16 It Doesn’t Matter Anymore
Once again, not much happened today and it was good. It’s been a day off today and I really don’t have much to write about and since today is the dreadful anniversary of John Lennon’s murder I thought I would republish an entry from 5 6 years ago. It’s a little all over the place but it is from the heart.
Old Dirt Road
Thursday, December 8th, 2005
I used to belong to a bowling league in 1980. Monday nights I’d bowl with the Harcourt Brace Jovanovich teams. I surprisingly was the captain of one. I had my own ball, shoes, and bag. The whole kit and kaboodle, wrist guard etc. I was all pretty much straight edge, didn’t drink, didn’t smoke weed. Smoked the butts though, but 25 years ago, a lot of other people did too.
I think I had a bowling average of about 142. That decreased when I started drinking and drugging. The fun increased, the sportsmanship didn’t. But that was a year or so later. I had some pretty good friends on the scene, Bill Wrice, Derry Pedovitch, John Carroll, Ida Sammartino. Ida was as old as my mother. This was her activity to get out of the house on her own. My mother did that at some point. I used to go with her and my brother, Brian on those Monday nights.
Mom and Brian eventually stopped bowling for HBJ. Mom stopped totally, and Brian bowled for the place where he was working then. I would play with various other kids while Mom and Brian bowled, that was around 1974. Elton was super big and John Lennon had a hit single with ‘Whatever Gets You Thru The Night’ featuring Elton on piano and vocals.
So 6 years later, I’m bowling at Parkway Lanes in Elmwood Park. My friend Derry and I had an extracurricular job with HBJ. We had to clear out a warehouse in Moonachie. When we were going back to Saddle Brook after a days clearing out, we had the radio on, and John Lennon’s first single in 5 years had just came out. Perry and I were big Beatle fans. He liked Paul, I leaned towards John. I liked the name. We were excited because we heard that Cheap Trick was backing him up on his new record and that would probably sound amazing.
What we heard was not Cheap Trick. Not much of an edge. I liked it, but most of the other music that I had been listening to was edgy, and I expected the edgy John Lennon of the Beatles. Or even of the 70’s. But it was a new decade, and he had a new voice and I loved him even more for it.
I grew up in a house of music. My parents and my brothers and sister all loved music. I credit Frank, Annemarie and Brian for turning me onto some really cool things that bring memories in a cascading wave. Frank and Annemarie were more aware of things when the Beatles conquered the States. Brian was seven, and I was two. I was preoccupied with shoving objects up my nose.
One of my earliest musical memories is of being freaked out by the ending of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. I remember Frank playing the single to me in his room and then when the psychedelic ending came up, he turned out the lights. Freaked me the fuck out.
Eventually the 1970’s happened. I was growing up and finding my own kind of music. Elton, Gilbert O’Sullivan, Dickie Goodman, Curtis Mayfield, Carly Simon. The Beatles were working into my DNA. I liked the solo stuff. Paul’s ‘Band on the Run’ was the first album I ever bought with my own money. Couldn’t wrap my head around John’s records, but I dug his singles. 1973 is summed up for me by George’s ‘Give Me Love’ and Ringo’s ‘You’re Sixteen’, being driven to Lodi Summer Recreation by Sharon Iwanicki in her orange Volkswagen beetle.
In 1976 my brother Frank told me he was going to take me to see the fireworks for the Fourth of July on the Hudson River. The original plan was for my father to take all of us to the World Trade Center and see them from his office, but he heard the city would be overrun with gangs from out of ‘The Warriors’ or ‘Escape from New York’, or worse yet, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.
So we celebrated the Bicentennial in Lodi. Frank and Elaine were going to Fort Lee. Turns out it was an adult party and I wasn’t allowed to go. So I went with Brian and his friend Eddie Austeri and tried watching the fireworks through the back window of Brian’s car on River Road in Cliffside Park. Not much to see there, move on.
The next day, Frank, (fried and hung over Frank), felt guilty and gave me a copy of ‘Abbey Road’. The doors were open again and I was enchanted. From ‘Come Together’ to ‘Her Majesty’ I was reborn as a Beatles fan. Both Frank and Annemarie had some records that they hadn’t played in a long time and I eventually incorporated into my record collection.
I started buying anything Beatles I could get my hands on that Frank and Annemarie didn’t have. I also found some old prints of the Beatles from 1964. My room was starting to become a shrine to the Fabs. I collected magazines, books, the solo records, posters. When I started working the collection of records, not just Beatles mind you, Punk and New Wave was coinciding.
Though I subscribed to the Punk ethos of everything old sucked, the Beatles were untouchable in that respect. John had retired by then though and after 1975 he took a well deserved break. I tried keeping in touch with him though.
For his Birthday, I’d send a card. Addressed as
John Lennon
New York City, N.Y.
And I’d always put a return address in the proper place so I would get it back if it wasn’t delivered. I never got any back. I would write and wish him a Happy Birthday or a Merry Christmas and let him know that if he was ever in Lodi, he could always stop by and hang out if he wanted to.
But I guess he was busy with the washing and the kid and all. He might have preferred Rochelle Park.
Derry and I eventually found out that it wasn’t Cheap Trick backing John on the single. We found out when we bought ‘Double Fantasy’. No mention of Rick Nielsen or Bun E. Carlos. I remember when I was shanghaied to the Mudd Club in November 1980 I heard the B-side to ‘Starting Over’, Yoko’s ‘Kiss Kiss Kiss’. So that’s where the edge was. In Yoko’s stuff. I never had a problem with Yoko. I saw her sing ‘Who Has Seen the Wind’ on the Mike Douglas Show and thought she was great.
I had gone to midnight showings of ‘Let It Be’ and whenever Yoko was on screen, people would hiss. I didn’t. I loved John and if he was happy with Yoko, then so was I. I was probably one of the dozens of people that played ‘Double Fantasy’ from start to finish. It was a good album, but nowhere near Talking Heads ‘Remain In Light’ or the B-52’s ‘Wild Planet’.
After bowling that Monday night in December, on my way home, I stopped off at the 711 and bought a copy of Playboy Magazine. Major interview with John and Yoko inside. I heard there were pictures of naked women in the magazine, but I don’t recall seeing any.
I got home and settled into my room while my parents were downstairs watching Monday Night Football.
I was laying on my bed, actually reading Playboy when my mother yelled upstairs, that Howard Cosell said that John Lennon was shot in New York. I figured, he had a gun and was cleaning it and shot himself in the foot. The Beatles still grabbed headlines, even caused Howard Cosell to say that John Lennon was shot cleaning his gun.
I didn’t really worry about it. I figured he lost his little piggy. I continued reading Playboy, reading John’s words.
My mother yelled upstairs a little while later. “Howard Cosell just said that John Lennon’s dead”. No way. Impossible. It’s not in my script. No, he’s going to live to be an old man. I will see him in concert. I will perhaps meet him. Perhaps he’ll show up in Lodi. Hey it could happen. Anything could happen. Anything but this.
This was wrong. I turned on the radio. Vin Scelsa was on, talking, and sounded like he was crying. What the fuck? People were calling in, crying. Beatles songs were playing. Lennon songs were playing. I sat next to the radio for a few hours waiting to hear that it was all a hoax. I was shaken, but still harbored the belief that it was for publicity.
Oh that crazy John and Yoko. What will they do next?
I woke up a few hours later and got ready for work. My mother listened to WNEW 1130AM. They played the songs she liked mainly, Sinatra, Mel Torme, Peggy Lee, Andy Williams. Today they were playing the Beatles. The newspapers were on the table, nasty headlines. John Lennon Shot. Pass the sugar.
I was gutted. Shock. I somehow got to work, but could barely function. I was driving a forklift then, picking orders. I preferred that to College. But I kept breaking down, having crying jags.
Little did I know that this would be the first of several truly horrible moments that would occur in my life.
I couldn’t stop crying. The dream of a Beatles reunion was dashed forever, but I just felt so bad for Yoko and Sean. A brutal murder on your own doorstep. I shut myself off from the world and just kept playing the Fabs and Lennon over and over.
A day or so later, my brother Frank was coming over for dinner. I heard him come in and started walking downstairs to see him. He looked up at me and asked how I was doing. Bam! Instant crying, all over again. My brother Brian had gotten quite tired of it and let into Frank for bringing up John Lennon’s death again. Like it was never going to be mentioned again.
The following Sunday, six days after John’s murder there was a vigil in Central Park by the band shell. Me and a few friends (Derry Pedovitch, Annie Carroll, Bill Wrice) caught the bus to the city and trekked up to the park. There were thousands of people. We walked by the Dakota and then into the park. There was a long moment of silence ended by the playing of ‘All You Need is Love’. Or maybe it was ‘Imagine’. I’m putting my money on the former.
The crowd dispersed, we straggled back to the Port Authority, to the bus and to our cars. I continued listening to Beatles/Lennon stuff for quite a few weeks.
In February 1981, Derry and I went to the Meadowlands Hilton for the Beatle-Fest. That was scary. Hundreds of people whose lives revolved around the Beatles. People that listen to the Beatles more than the Beatles did. “Let’s give a big cheer for John Lennon” Hurrah. Too corny for me. I, at least listened to other music. I loved the Beatles but I loved other things too. I think my grieving period ended that weekend.
I did become more active about Gun Control, and John’s message of love and peace is still needed today. I do miss John. I miss George too, and I miss a lot of people and I am grateful for the ones that are still here and aren’t hiding.
Well it’s been a better day than yesterday. I am over the setback. A Xanax helped and now that it’s worn off and faded away, not going on interviews loaded on drugs (like the malignant tumor Greg mentioned that he found not to be so beneficial). So the 11/11/11 at 111 Fifth Avenue at 11:00AM thing did not pan out. Oh well, la di dah, la di dah. You live, you learn.
Another night of good sleep was had last night and woke up with Bill kissing me goodbye again this morning. Such a lucky guy I am. I am part of the service economy and I guess that is how it is going to be for the time being. At least I don’t have to ask if that is ‘for here or to go’, or if they want ‘fries with that’.
Right now I am working with Bradley who just ran out to CVS to refill his prescription. He’s been a good egg today once again. Perhaps it’s the prescription. I’m doing especially well in sales today, in fact I have a healthy lead over everyone else. I achieved my goal early enough and still continue to rake up the dollars.
Since Bradley is out, I took off the Shins and put on the Fabs, Magical Mystery Tour. It’s been a decent day, I talked with my brother Brian on the phone this morning. he was working nearby but there wasn’t enough time to meet up for a coffee since he had his work to do and I had to head out and catch the bus.
Bill has been exceptional throughout the past couple of weeks. Steadfast and true, and last night despite my telling him to go to bed he stayed up just to give me a great big hug. If that is not love, then I don’t know what it is.
This morning on the bus I played Aladdin Sane by David Bowie and it’s been ages since I played it from start to finish. It still is an amazing record. It’s funny how I never really cared for that perdiod of Bowie, initially I was into his Berlin phase but lately the stuff that put him on top has been grabbing my attention, though last night as I walked home after getting off the bus I did play Move On from Lodger and found solace in that.
Also some texting between me and Rand this morning, he is still searching for steady work and I really hope he finds something soon. He is one of, or perhaps my oldest friend.
And it was 10 years today that George Harrison passed away. I remember hearing the news when I woke up and I really cried a lot about it. Ten years later, I remember buying All Things Must Pass for Annemarie before I headed back from California and a few days after returning to Weehawken George was dead.
I also remember Bill giving me the copy of Time magazine with a beautiful photograph of George with a sunflower on the cover. We were at a pseudo upscale bar and once again I cried a bit. Here’s to you George, somewhere out in the universe, perhaps with John & Brian Epstein. Hare Krishna George.
And thanks for inspiring me to be an artist and encouraging me to continue to create. 09 Run of the Mill
And today is/was a day off. I woke up at a decent hour and almost immediately set about starting my day. Laundry was in the works as well as the trips to the supermarket and the dry cleaners. It was a good start to the day.
Not much else was going on, a stop at the Guitar Bar to say hello to Mr. Wonderful Jim Mastro. Jim’s former band, The Health & Happiness Show is reuniting for a fundraiser at Maxwells tomorrow night to help a former band mate’s wife who has fallen ill and has enormous medical bills. I can’t go to show my support, but if you’re in the area maybe you can go. It starts at 7:30 and it’s for a good cause.
I saw the Health & Happiness Show a few times, even worked the door for them when they played the Shannon Bar in the 1990’s. They weren’t my cup of tea then but I could appreciate their talent and they had a good amount of fans.
Then I saw them opening up for the Bongos a few years ago. I used to love the Bongos and they had reunited for the Art & Music festival in Hoboken, and they got some kind of proclamation. The funny thing is this time around I loved the Health & Happiness Show and found the Bongos to be quite lackluster.
If they reunited ten years earlier it probably would have been exciting, but they were ten years too late this time Jim (who also played with the Bongos) & the Health & Happiness Show blew them away. It must have been a comedown, shifting gears from hi-octane to merely regular.
The news of the day has been about the death of Khadafy in Libya. It even featured gruesome pictures of what appeared to be Khadafy’s head all shot up. John McCain and Joe Lieberman traveled to Libya a few years ago, promising Khadafy aid and equipment. Lindsay Graham and Susan Collins also made the trip and I could easily picture the four of them sitting in grief and reminiscing.
I finally got the latest Mojo and Uncut Magazines. I could have picked up Uncut by itself since it was available, but I always buy the two together. I started Mojo after I finished last week’s New Yorker and it’s a good issue. Better than the one edited by Noel Gallagher which was a yawn.
I did a lot of walking around and when I got home I was bushed. So I decided to take a nap. I was watching the Harry Belafonte documentary on cable but was too tired to watch the whole thing. I could always watch it on demand later, or as a repeat which this afternoon’s broadcast was.
I certainly slept later than I expected. It felt good though but instead of a body clock reset like it usually happens I woke up a bit discombobulated. Now a few hours later I am back in the swing of things.
