Tag Archives: Andy Warhol

I Say A Little Prayer- Dionne Warwick

Well I haven’t been here since last year and what a time that was. Wow seems like only yesterday or at least a few days previous since I last saw you all. How was your New Year celebration? Did you have one or were you in bed early and under the covers when neighbors started clanging pots and pans? I’ve done that once before, in the early 1980’s while apartment sitting in Inwood. That was an adventure in itself. Didn’t do much of anything then and was in bed a little bit before midnight. That must have been 1982 I think.

On Sunday I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my niece Corinne. We had a great time, opting to drive in, instead of relying on public transportation. It was too cold, and I have to admit I was a bit cranky. Corinne cheered me up and we enjoyed the Regarding Warhol exhibition. It was crazy crowded since it was about to end it’s run. I was able to explain the stories behind some of the art work and I think Corinne enjoyed herself. We made it back to Hoboken and had a late lunch at the Malibu Diner. A mellow night in was in the cards for me. Bill was home and was not driving to Atlantic City.

On New Year’s Eve I got a phone call from Shlomo. It’s getting to be a habit with him. Cheap labor, paid in cigars and I am dependable and trustworthy and they probably won’t find anyone like me to work for them at such a low rate. I headed to the cigar shop and as I told Shlomo a week earlier, it will probably be crazy on New Year’s Eve. And it was. I called it. I knew groups of guys would be coming in to buy cigars for the night and I knew they wouldn’t know what they wanted.

It was busy and the time flew and I was glad for that. Cigars are generally mild, medium or full bodied. I like full bodied cigars myself, but I’ve been smoking cigars since the 1990’s. An occasional medium might come my way as well as that mild cigar, so I know what I am talking about when describing cigars to the newcomers. Sure enough within about 5 hours most of the mild cigars were sold. I explained that to the customers and would steer them to the medium cigars, something not too overwhelming. Sometimes they would understand what I was saying.

And when you smoke a cigar, like a medium cigar, it would start out medium but as you puffed further and further it might start to get full bodied. They knew what they were getting and by the time they would light them up while being well lit themselves I would be long gone and probably forgotten. Brandon came in on time and I was explaining to him what the deal was. Shlomo was around and seemed pissed that I didn’t replenish what was sold, and I explained that I couldn’t find the cigars to refill. At that point I walked out with a bit of a chip on my shoulder.

Shlomo looked for the cigars to replenish and couldn’t find them either. I came home and there was Bill happy to see me. The usual plan was to go to dinner at Arthur’s Steakhouse at around 8:00, I had somethings to take care of and hoped for a nap but hope was all I got. Bill was busy doing his thing, music, headshots and stuff like that. I did my best to get in the mood. We headed to Arthur’s at 8:00 and ordered our usual steaks and Guinness, followed by chocolate mousse cake. We’re so predictable. We got an Arthur’s gift certificate for Christmas and put it to good use, thanks to the Garfield relatives.

After dinner we walked home, puffing on cigars. We relaxed once home and chilled out until it was time to go. I baked some cookies, bought some Guinness, got my Bass together and some photographs I had printed out for Rand and Lisa and Lois and Fred. Mike from down the street was going to be there so I printed a picture for him and his girlfriend Sarah. I used a gig bag for the bass as we walked to Rand and Lisa’s around 11:00. I forgot the reason why I don’t use the gig bag. I goes on your back and it’s really constricting. Plus it adds a few inches to your height and me being 6’2”, I got snagged in a tree branch once or twice.

A young woman saw me getting snagged and expressed concern if I was OK when she saw it happen. I wasn’t happy about it but I trotted onward with Bill and thanked the young woman for her concern and Bill and I wished her a Happy New Year. We got to Rand and Lisa’s and met Rand outside his apartment. We walked in and saw everyone I mentioned, plus Chaz but no Sarah. The group was all watching a Godzilla movie since that was the theme of the night.

After unloading my stuff I plopped down on a couch next to Chaz and not seeing the window ledge jutting out, leaned back rather quickly and hit my head loudly on the windowsill which caused everyone to stop and watch me. We checked for blood a few times but it wasn’t bleeding. Just a dull pain and anticipation of a bump or a knot. It’s a good thing I have a thick skull having hit my head several times throughout my life and needing stiches on three separate occasions.

I announced that I had giving up smoking cigarettes which didn’t get the reaction I had hoped. I got ‘but you’re still smoking cigars’ instead. Lois was more impressed when I told her at Maxwell’s the week before but no one was more impressed than my sister Annemarie who stated that I didn’t need to get her anything for Christmas, my no more cigarettes was enough. And I am sticking by her edict.

Midnight came, Mike left before that so he can ring in the year with Sarah who was home sick with a bug she picked up while visiting her family in England. Champagne, pots and pans and kisses for Bill and everyone else was in order and then that was over. Rand had set up a keyboard so Bill could play it. I brought the bass, Lois was on Rand’s guitar, Rand on trombone and Lisa on shakers. Fred and Chaz were not into it at all and watched TV in the next room.

It was a sloppy jam but it was fun. I played what I knew on bass, which was Talking Heads Warning Sign and Psycho Killer, Liquid Liquid’s ‘Cavern’ and something that I think I based on How many More Times by Led Zeppelin and something that could have been by Donald ‘Duck’ Dunn from Booker T & the MG’s. Bill played some Stevie Wonder, I Wish, Sir Duke and a few other songs, but we were all politely buzzed and kept messing up the words.

We had a great time but I was tired though and very sweaty and Bill and I left around 2:00AM. I was wary about having a concussion so I stayed up a bit later once we got home after Bill went to bed. Slept really well that night and woke up feeling OK. New Year’s Day is a nothing day really, at least for us. We were invited to parties, but neither one of us wanted to do anything or go anywhere, so we stayed in all day.

We had enough food and if we wanted Guinness we had that too. But we stayed with the food, saving the Guinness for another time, perhaps Chaz’ party this upcoming weekend. Bill napped while I watched a marathon of Bunheads. Bill woke up by the time the marathon was almost over and I explained how similar Bunheads was to Gilmore Girls.

After that we decided to not watch the bad news and watched ‘The Music Never Stopped’ which I wrote about before. Guy with brain tumor comes alive from a catatonic state when he hears music from the 1960’s. His dad reconnects with him after not speaking to each other for decades.

We also watched Prick Up Your Ears, the Joe Orton movie with Gary Oldham, Alfred Molina and Vanessa Redgrave. Good and brutal but still enjoyable. I saw that in the theater when it came out and I think I wrote about that last week or last year. I hit my head last night and today. I think I will wear a hard hat for the rest of the year, just to be safe.

Overall, despite head injuries it was a good New Year’s Eve, spent with good friends.

And I love Bill so much, it just keeps getting better all the time.

I’m a lucky guy.

Corinne with Warhol's Cow wallpaper.

Corinne with Warhol’s Cow wallpaper.


Corinne with a Picasso

Corinne with a Picasso


Oxidation painting!

Oxidation painting!


New Year's Eve panorama

New Year’s Eve panorama


Winding down with Chaz

Winding down with Chaz


Every day this guy walks up and down Washington Street singing Madonna at the top of his lungs like he's walking a catwalk.

Every day this guy walks up and down Washington Street singing Madonna at the top of his lungs like he’s walking a catwalk.


09 My Lover’s Prayer

Cheeking Tongues

Things are fucking weird lately. I thought it was me, but it’s not. Perhaps it’s because of the sudden change in the weather. A week or so ago we had over a foot of snow in this area, now it’s pushing 60 degrees. I’m definitely not complaining about the weather.

I just got back from sitting by the river and finished the March issue of Mojo with Syd Barrett on the cover. A tragic story about old Syd. I knew the gist of it but now I know a little bit more. Like the 1970’s, people didn’t know how to put a hand out, perhaps saying ‘maybe doing LSD every day isn’t that good an idea’.

Lennon was the same way, nearly a casualty and Cynthia nor the other Beatles did anything about it. Of course I wasn’t there so I shouldn’t really say anything, all my info is third or fourth hand.

And if I was there, who would listen to a 5 year old, which is what I was in that acid drenched year of 1967. I had my own problems, just starting school, trying to stay out of Vietnam. You know the score.

Last night was decent. Nothing earth shattering to write about. I watched It Might Get Loud, a documentary of sorts featuring Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White. Jimmy Page, Mr Cool and mellow in this day and age. The Edge, I’m sure he’s a nice guy but he didn’t really do much for me but Jack White.

Wow, Jack White. Love his attitude, his approach, his philosophy. It’s worth watching if just for Jimmy Page and Jack White.

Had interesting dreams once again, cannabis free. One involved a Warhol exhibition of Andy’s paintings which seemed to be modeled on Edward Hopper’s work. I really don’t think Andy did any work like that.

In the dream I was on a bus headed to the exhibition and sitting next to old friend Eileen Lynch talking about the Warhol show in Chelsea I believe. Maybe I should or someone should do a series of Edward Hooper paintings in a Warhol style.

That wouldn’t be so weird considering so many photo stores advertise their services for doing photographs in the manner of Warhol’s portrait series from the 1970’s. If you saw them you’d know what I mean.

For some reason I wrote in my dream notepad ‘No, not Jasper Johns, but Jasper Johns’.

Another dream I had involved me finding a store by a motel I was staying at that sold Gauloises. That dream is probably stemming from the fact that I haven’t had a cigarette since last week. I’ve had a few cigars, but no more cigarettes.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision, it just happened.

In the dream I had that familiar blue pack of tobacco that I enjoyed for so long which suddenly became unavailable here in the states. In real life I got into an online argument with some wanker who called me a typical American who thinks the world revolved around the USA.

And all I had written was the fact that they were no longer available here. I’m sure I would be tempted to smoke cigarettes again if Gauloises made an appearance on the market again but we know it’s unlikely to happen.

That time I wrote faster than the processor could handle and that last line came out as ‘if Gauloises made an appeely to happen.’

So about the tease the other day, no it wasn’t about me giving up fags. It was about a plan for Bill and I to get a Civil Union license, document or what have you.

I had hoped Rand could be our witness but I think he’s been under the weather (he mentioned that after the parade)and didn’t respond to my message on Sunday. When he finally did respond, (not to the message but to the fact that I called and hung up instead of leaving a message on Monday) it was too late.

Bill was off in the city and both parties need to be present for a civil union. I did ask Jim Mastro who said he would witness but we both thought it would be at City Hall. Instead it will be at the Multi Service Community Center on Grand Street here in Hoboken.

Not around the block from the Guitar Bar as we had thought.

So I asked Stine who will witness with Alexander after they get out of their morning play session on Thursday. That was nice of her to be able to do so.

I saw Stine and Alexander this morning and it was funny to see Alexander having the same eye expressions as Julio. To the T, the rolling upwards of the eyes as if to say ‘Oh Brother’.

So now you know the plan. Bill and I getting legitimized somewhat in the eyes of the Hoboken city government. We’re registered at Regency Cigar Emporium at 752 Main Street, East Greenwich, RI 02818-3501 in case you were wondering.

Just send them an email and tell them my real name. They have my address as well as what I like. Just tell them to duplicate my last orders.

Cheeky ol’ me…

Things to read...

Things to read...


Places to see...

Places to see...

Innocent When You Dream

Back to ‘normal’ which is quite a relative term. In fact if I were to be called ‘normal’ I would take that as an insult. Been spending the day uploading videos from YouTube onto Facebook. Going from Dusty Springfield to the Pet Shop Boys to Electronic to New Order.

By then I was in the midst of doing laundry. Now the laundry hangs on racks and in the bathroom in the shower. Now I’ve gone to John Lennon to Yoko Ono to Marianne Faithfull to Tom Waits.

I spent some time last night arguing with a Lennon fan who was angry that Lennon’s assassin didn’t also kill Yoko Ono. That is truly fucked up. I put him in his place, telling him that he wasn’t too many steps from the assassin’s mindset.

How upset the assassin was because John Lennon didn’t live his life the way the assassin wanted him to. Which made the assassin think that he was actually John Lennon and had to destroy the real John Lennon in order to become him.

How sick is it that this ‘fan’ basically couldn’t wrap his pointy little head and accept that John wanted to live his life on his terms?

I remember before that dreadful December day in 1980, seeing a midnight showing of Let It Be and whenever Yoko would be on screen they would hiss and boo. I always liked Yoko ever since seeing her on the Mike Douglas Show singing Who Has Seen the Wind? Which I believe was the B-side to Instant Karma.

It’s troubling. This ‘fan’ also insisted that I used ‘sarcasm’ which he wrote was the lowest form of humor. I replied that I used satire, in the most Swiftian way, even going so far as to finish off saying it was ‘A Modest Proposal’.

Oh it’s a day’s work trying to enlighten some people. I loved John and if he loved Yoko that was fine with me. He was no saint and did fuck up in major ways, his treatment of his first wife Cynthia and absence from his son Julian’s life for long stretches. He was no god, no saint, just a man.

A very talented man who had been on top of the world most of his life. And to lose his life at the hands of a fan, well that was horrifying. I remember in February 1981 attending the BeatleFest and seeing all these people who only listened to the Beatles, even more than the Beatles did.

I was one of the few in attendance who actually listened to non Fab related stuff. But as my life goes on and I get a bit older, I find I have an affection for the Beatles music, it’s a comfort.

The other night I watched a documentary called “A Walk into the Sea: Danny Williams and Andy Warhol”. Danny Williams was a figure in the early days of the Factory and apparently one of Andy’s early boyfriends.

He also shot some of Andy’s first films,which are amazing. Some eerie footage of Henry Geldzahler in slight slow motion, looking like a smiling hyena demon.

Paul Morrissey is in the film as is Bridget Berlin and Billy Name. Morrissey seems quite bitter, and mentions that Andy didn’t know how to read which may be true since Andy was out of school a lot when he was growing up.

Danny Williams was squeezed out of the Factory scene when he received accolades in the press from the Exploding Plastic Inevitable with the Velvet Underground tour and Andy wasn’t even mentioned in the review.

That upset Andy and the Factory denizens who made life hell for Danny who by that time was addicted to methamphetamine. In the fragile state that he was in, he visited his family up by Cape Cod and after dinner took a walk into the ocean and was never seen again.

Danny’s films were marked on the lead and found and identified only a few years ago by the Whitney Museum. Major differences between Danny’s camera work and Andy’s. Edited in the camera no less.

Which reminded me of Super 8 footage I shot when driving to Austin, TX back in the 1980’s. I edited in the camera as well, found it easier with the shot thought out as I went along. I even held a screening in my 201 Madison apartment, about 20 friends showed up and watched 3 reels of film lasting about 10 minutes.

I don’t have the film anymore, lost somewhere over the years after moving from apartment to apartment. But I still have the idea in my head and if someone wants to lend me a camera I’d be sure I can duplicate it or at least come to a close approximation. And instead of having people in my apartment, I’d post it on YouTube.

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With a Girl Like You

And it’s been quite a nice day spent with my sister Annemarie and her son Earl. Earl is now 6’1”. Almost as tall as me, and as tall as Bill. A not so angry inch on this end.

I met up with them last night. They stopped here in Hoboken where we had pizza at Grimaldi’s. They can’t get pizza like that in Arcata. It was a quick stop before they headed up to Garfield to my brother Frank’s house.

I stayed in Hoboken, eventually going out for a stroll, walking off the pizza I helped inhale. Nice night smoking a cigar, listening to some of the London Calling album up to Lost in The Supermarket before switching over to the first side of Talking Heads: 77.

Bill came home a little after that, watched Lawn hors d’œuvre Criminal Relent up to a point when Bill switched into stage manager mode and hit pause on the digital cable box for about 50 minutes. He un-paused it when the news came on and his phone call was finished. The news was nothing in particular, mostly bad.

Then the Simpsons came on and Bill was off to bed, me joining him a little while later. He was off in the morning and kissed me goodbye as I lay in bed.

No work today. Annemarie called a little while later, checking to see if I was awake and also to see if anything was planned for the day.

At that moment I didn’t have any plans but after a cup of coffee I had an idea. A trip to the city and visiting some art galleries. Always fun to do and also easy on the wallet.

Anne and Earl rode down to Hoboken and found a spot on my block and we walked over to the Path, riding to 14th Street and walking up Fifth Avenue.

I had hoped to go to the Not Fade Away Gallery to check out the New York City 1970’s photos of Allen Tannenbaum. Despite getting there after 12:00 on a Friday when they were supposed to be open, they weren’t. It was just a little bit disappointing but other galleries lay ahead.

We walked down 20th street and wound up having lunch at the Rocking Horse Cafe which was good as usual. Then it was off to the galleries, first stop was a Stephen Shore exhibition.

In the 1960’s, Stephen Shore was a young man in his 20’s and took a lot of classic photos of Andy Warhol and the Factory crowd. I had seen some of the pictures in books but it was great to see them blown up in a gallery.

Then it was a hodgepodge of gallery hopping mainly from 22nd street to 24th and 25th Streets. Earl had gotten a phone call from a friend back in Arcata about completing his college registration today so I made a call to Bill and the three of us hopped in a taxi and rode up to midtown where we met up with Bill.

Bill was kind enough to bring his laptop down to the street where Earl worked the wireless connection and my cellphone and spoke to Susan, the administrative help at Humboldt State.

The process didn’t go as planned and Bill needed to get back to his office so we meandered down Broadway, saw a big chess game in Herald Square and hopped on a Path train back to Hoboken.

We came back here where I set Earl up on Bill’s Mac and I played DJ while Annemarie read some magazines and eventually catnapped. After Earl completed his registration, they were going to get some food in Hoboken before heading back to Garfield so I joined them for dinner at the Karma Cafe.

After that a quick visit to Julio & Stine’s apartment where they were able to finally meet Alexander who clearly loved being the center of attention. Still an adorable lad, running around trying to communicate.

I sat in the next room and read to Alexander while Annemarie and Earl caught up with Julio & Stine. A perfect finish to a perfect day. Simply a nice, nice, nice day with some of my favorite people.

And now, the pics

en route to the Path

en route to the Path


Earl & Me. Missing from picture, Cornbread.

Earl & Me. Missing from picture, Cornbread.


Andy

Andy


Edie Sedgewick

Edie Sedgewick


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 010
Gallery hopping

Gallery hopping


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 015
7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 017
Cedric Smith

Cedric Smith


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 020
Cedric Smith

Cedric Smith


Cedric Smith

Cedric Smith


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 028
actually photographed this once before in a previous entry

actually photographed this once before in a previous entry


this one as well...

this one as well...


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 029
7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 030
7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 031
Tough Titty

Tough Titty


Anne, Bill & the college registrant

Anne, Bill & the college registrant


my homage to Mapplethorpe

my homage to Mapplethorpe


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 045
Us 2

Us 2


big chess match in Herald Square

big chess match in Herald Square


a mom and her son

a mom and her son


7.10.09 Anne & Earl NYC 004
he usually smiles.

he usually smiles.

His Wife, Refused

Well I took today off from work, yet every now and then I’m checking email and voicemail. I gave them enough notice, that I was taking today off and I haven’t heard from everyone so I’m hoping no news is good news. That’s the work front. Here in Hoboken today, it’s bright and sunny with a cool breeze every now and then. I’ve been puttering around the apartment, getting things ready to sell.

I just came up from the basement where I found that Julio was right. He mentioned previously that a lot of my things are ruined from water and the damp. As I was going through some boxes I’ve noticed notebooks with my writings faded or washed away or covered in black mold. Records, books, photographs all ruined. I’m disappointed and regretful but there’s nothing I could do about it now.

Books that were autographed by Andy Warhol have now wound up in the garbage can as well as a book autographed by Brian Eno. It was the price I paid, living on the top floor of a five story walk up and when I moved in that rainy weekend 6 years ago, I moved enough things up those stairs along with Bill, William and Chaz, and was so exhausted that I started leaving things in the basement, not taking into consideration that nature would have it’s way.

And nature sure did have it’s way. I hadn’t seen these books or records in years and figured they might have been up here somewhere, but they weren’t. So it’s Hello Bin from David Bowie books, Beatle books, Warhol autographs, all gone forever. Disappointed in it all, not crying though. It’s my own fault. Procrastinate for 6 years and something was bound to happen.

Let this be a lesson to you. Or me.

In any event I’m still putting out some decent items tomorrow and if they don’t sell, well I don’t think I’ll be lugging those up to the fifth floor. Either they make it to the curb, or placed in the basement, this time not on the floor though. At least I know I’ve met Andy Warhol and Brian Eno so the books, while they would have been nice to keep, are just material things and easily discarded. I would have more than likely tried to sell them on eBay somewhere down the line.

They should make it to the trash tonight instead. The Metal Box PiL collectible is now rusted and warped, and Chris Stamey stares at me from the garbage can with his cold, dead eyes. I called up Julio and asked if he had any heavy duty garbage bags. He asked why and I told him that he was right about my things being ruined. He of course, maintained the ‘I told you so’ stance, asking what did I expect after leaving my shit down there for 6 years?

I told him I had hope. He asked if I was an atheist, and if so what the hell was I doing ‘hoping’, equating a belief in hope with a belief in a deity. Whats done is done. I saw Stine and Alexander outside and had a nice little chat. No pictures today. Maybe tomorrow. All I can do is laugh about the destroyed books and records as I have no one to blame but myself.

Last night Bill and I watched an entertaining biography on Elton John: Me, Myself and I. It was pretty funny and well done. I showed Bill my Elton John scrapbook from the 1970’s, which contained the ticket stub for my first concert. Madison Square Garden, Elton John August 12, 1976 $9.50. I don’t know why I have this 30 year old scrapbook. I was definitely into Elton John, that’s for sure.

I bet that Chaz has several scrapbooks about T Rex from his youth, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he is constantly updating it.

Showtime tomorrow! Have to put up some signs for the gate sale later.

At The Border, Guy

Wow, I am so tired. I walked around the city a bit today. Not in one direction, but rather zig zagging all over Chelsea, checking out various galleries. The day started out ok. Last night was ok. I watched The Darjeeling Limited, Wes Anderson’s latest. I liked it more than The Life Aquatic, but not as much as Rushmore, and definitely not as much as The Royal Tenenbaums. Then I watched Bill Maher who was just so so. I enjoy watching him with someone else. If not I get easily distracted or annoyed with Bill Maher’s smarmyness. Went to bed after that, with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.

Woke up and did my Saturday thing, which I also did yesterday. Called up the parents to be, Julio and Stine and asked if they wanted anything from the store. A bagel for Stine was all they needed. I splurged and bought the New York Post for Julio. Had a nice breakfast, did laundry and then sat around the apartment, trying to think of something to do. Thought about going to Burlington Coat Factory, just to see if they had anything new since they redid something and occasionally I can find City of London Ties for $9.99 whereas in the city they’re about $30.00 and up. I also thought about heading into the city to check out some galleries.

I decided to walk up to Washington Street and let fate decide. If there was a bus heading into the city I’d take it, otherwise I’d just walk up to Burlington. That was the plan but what actually happened was I waited for a bus for about a half hour. Just wanted to get out of Hoboken. Don’t get me wrong, I do love Hoboken, but for culture you more or less have to cross the Hudson River, which isn’t so bad. I walked down Ninth Avenue once I got out of the bus terminal. It was more crowded than usual due to the Auto Show at the Javits Center. It’s supposed to be Green themed, as in eco-friendly this year, but I don’t know anything about cars, making it a good thing that I don’t drive.

I made it to Chelsea, retracing my steps from the last time I was there which was January I think. I was underwhelmed by most everything I saw. Nothing reached out and grabbed me, and nothing really made me laugh which I think is the best art out there. Eventually I did find some good art at various galleries, but the majority of what I saw was really boring. Stumbled into an exhibition of Jasper John’s drawings which was fun and also some early Andy Warhol drawings, mainly drawings of men, and one or two of someone sucking a cock which was charming. The gallery area of Chelsea wasn’t too crowded, due to the Easter weekend. Never was a big holiday to me. I did make a joke about the holiday though, and here it is.

Easter is when Jesus comes out of his tomb and if he sees his shadow then it’s six more weeks of Lent.

I like it, it’s mine and it’s funny. I was tuckered out after all the art. A image I saw in a few galleries was of bathtubs. Is there a plumbers movement in the art world afoot? That would be interesting perhaps, or maybe not since it was a rather mediocre day for the galleries today. Walked back to the Path train where it was crowded. They weren’t letting people on or off the train due to the police closing in on some criminal activity at the 33rd Street station. After a few minutes they let people on and off and I stood pressed against the wall as it filled up at every station. Made it back to Hoboken after leaving a few hours earlier. Stopped off at Mision Burrito and now I’m tired and sated.

And here are quite a few pics of the art that I saw today (and liked). Enjoy.

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Russians!
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This guy duplicated the house he grew up in
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Jasper Johns
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Nice space, lousy art
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This guy’s work was cool
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At it again
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Another show
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West 21st Street
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A bath tub on the street
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The Path train. Criminals unknown, unseen
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Artists Only

Today being Saturday means I get to sleep in. I slept until about 9:00 which wasn’t too much of a stretch considering I went to bed at 1:00AM. I watched Bill Maher last night, he was ok, definitely needed his writers, and he even said so towards the end of the show. After that I watched Ringo Starr on VH1 Classic, Ringo being the subject of the Storytellers show. He was ok, an enjoyable hour spent. Of course the Beatles songs had stories I had heard before.

Mainly Ringo saying that the White Album is his favorite album but it’s also the one during which he left the band for two weeks. Perhaps it was a pretty good fortnight for Ringo. He wrote Octopus’ Garden while out of the group. Obviously he came back, then George quit for a couple of days, followed by John nine months later. Paul was the only who actually left, telling the press he quit to the dismay of the other three. Ringo didn’t get into that mess though.

Last night’s blog was a way for me to let off steam. I’m back to what passes for normal when I’m concerned. Today was a nice day. Went out, got the usual, did some shopping, dropped off dry cleaning. Came back, had breakfast, read the papers and started on some laundry. I had a sketch of a plan to head into the city and see the last day of a Warhol exhibition. Time Out NY had the gallery on 57th Street so I hopped on the bus and walked up to 57th street. At 20 west 57th, I walked in and asked the guard for the Susan Sheehan Gallery. He tells me it moved. I call up the gallery and they tell me they’re on west 22nd street now, and she told Time Out that fact, but they haven’t changed it.

I was annoyed but thanks to some transcontinental prodding from Annemarie, I hopped on a train to 23rd Street. Made it to the gallery, saw some very old Warhol drawings from the 1950’s and two early 60’s silkscreens. It was good to see Andy’s stuff and it made me glad that I went out and did something. I wandered around 22nd street and looked at some other artists in different galleries. Good stuff, a good day to look at some art. It was getting dark out and I was getting hungry so I walked over to 33rd street and caught the Path train back to Hoboken.

Made a burger and it was good. I may watch Inland Empire tonight. I don’t know what to expect but I’m sure to get something out of it. David Lynch can do that to you. I heard from Juan yesterday, he’s having a gay old time in Costa Rica. All the young men have faux hawks in Costa Rica, so he’s probably standing out with his New York City style by way of Seoul. He was planning on heading tot he beach, the Pacific Ocean, and surprisingly enough, I’m not jealous.

I took some pics but having difficulty with my editing program so I’ll post them tomorrow hopefully. That is if you want to see them.