Tag Archives: Cannabis Free Dreams

I’m a Greedy Man

Ugh. So tired. How many times have I written that as an intro to an entry? Can I get a Bala Cynwyd auditor here? And maybe some choice Cafe Press items to peruse and perhaps purchase? I had a day off yesterday and this retail schedule is wrecking havoc with my body clock.

Today was arduous. Just very slow. I opened the store today, not by myself since they still haven’t trusted me with a key. It was me and Don Birch.

I stood outside for a few minutes knocking on the window trying to get his attention in the humidor. He finally looked up when I decided to call the store.

It was a slow start but in the afternoon the back room was thick with cigar smoke as about 12 guys sat around watching the World Cup. Raymond and Sean made it in for the 11:30 shift.

We make for a good crew. We can obviously handle things on our own. Calvin had off and we guessed that Marcus took the day off to make ready his wedding plans on July 11. No one from the store is invited and everyone is happy not to be invited.

A comment was passed on my music, specifically a track by Tricky, ‘Pumpkin’. It was said it sounded like music from an opium den. I guess that was supposed to be a bad thing.

Before my official lunch, I ate my turkey sandwich and for my official lunch went out and sat in one of my usual benches by the park, had a cigar and read the May 3 edition of the New Yorker.

It’s a very long article about a custody battle, murder and the trial that followed in Queens involving Russian immigrants from an obscure Jewish sect. It’s very involving and engrossing and so far I’ve been reading it for the past 4 days. Or maybe 3 days, my body clock being out of whack.

Back in time to relax amidst the cigar smoke in the back room. After that, the afternoon crawled yet again. In fact the last hour was so slow. Too much watching the clock on the wall.

I did not sleep well at all last night. I did sleep but had an angry dream with me being kidnapped to Orlando, Florida by my parents. My father oddly quiet, my mother passive. My brothers and their wives were there as was my sister and her husband.

None of their kids were there. I yelled at my mother that I wasn’t supposed to be there since I just started a new job and couldn’t afford to be there.

To my dismay the only way to get out of Orlando was to try to get the one called Ann B. Davis to pick me up at the airport and that was like pulling teeth. The one called Ann B. Davis more than likely came up since Connie and I talked about her in the phone conversation we had earlier in the afternoon.

Just saw Chaz for a few minutes. He had a collection of clippings as well as Pride Magazine which has the photo of Bill and myself. It turns out Bill got a copy and scanned it to me this afternoon and now it’s my profile picture as well as Bill’s on Facebook.

In case you’re not in Facebook, here it is. 2 more days of work, then I am off for the weekend.

(I’m a) Road Runner

The day we kidnapped Barry Manilow was quite an eventful day. Wait. That’s not it. That’s another story, yet to happen.

Here I am writing again even though I was thinking of not writing. But that’s what thinking gets you. 500 words or more, a tour or more likely, skimming the surface of my consciousness. Am I shallow enough for you?

Let’s see, this player is on random.

Had what might have been an interesting dream last night. I was in Empire Coffee and Jeff the guy who I was friendly with behind the counter forgot my name. I might have called him Eric. There was also another guy helping me with my order when Jeff/Eric faded into the wallpaper.

In real life, Jeff lives around the block from me, his kitchen windows are a few floors down, opposite mine. I told him, my apartment had Christmas lights in the window year round. His reaction was to wonder what type of person has Christmas lights year round.

Me. I am that type of person. They change colors and give off a nice glow and also makes it difficult to see past the lights, giving me some privacy when I parade my not so private parts. A shame, a 20 something young man questioning something like year round Christmas lights.

I guess he’s never had an Ann Boyles in his life.

Work today, the late shift. A hot day before Father’s Day which meant some extra sales, for those errant kids who needed to buy something quick for dear old Dad. Also some wives who don’t know anything in particular, asking for a box of cigars when they mean a humidor.

And a cigar cutter which they worried about their husbands losing a finger in it. I told one particular wife that her husband losing a digit would be unlikely. All he would have to do is not put his finger in the cutter.

Dumb. As. Wood. And I certainly don’t mean to disparage wood.

I have cut down on smoking cigarettes, but I was outside having a smoke and some tourist bloke walked up to me with a dollar in his hand asking to buy a smoke from me.

I showed him my roll ups and he said that was fine and gave him two for the price of one. I usually give them away when someone asks but this bloke had a buck in his hand and with this economic climate, I couldn’t afford not to take the buck.

For lunch I had an excellent Padron 1926 Anniversario #9 cigar. Quite nice, and one of the best cigars I’ve ever had. I smoked near the park and on the bench next to me was a guy playing a pocket trumpet which was cool to listen to. I gave him the buck that I made from selling cigarettes.

I was going to smoke in the back room, but there were two old geezers who made me uncomfortable, plus Marcus was there and I really wouldn’t be able to relax with him hanging around. Lunch with the boss? No thanks.

And with Marcus around it made what should have been a relaxing day, a bit tense. Not that anything was really happening that could be considered bad behavior, just that he’s the boss and usually not in on the weekend.

Besides Marcus, it was Raymond, Don Birch and Sean. I am the oldest store employee here. The usual sniping between the three of them went on, but Raymond seemed a bit down. He eats a lot of crap and today he had the blues.

When Sean and Don Birch left, it was just Raymond and me and I’ve been schooling him on the Beatles. We played Please Please Me, With the Beatles, A Hard Days Night and most of Beatles for Sale over the past couple of days.

I get a weird vibe from Raymond, like he’s wrestling with something deep, but I could be wrong. He just might be overworked. I do enjoy working with him the most though.

Tonight after work I made it from the shop to the bus terminal in 16 minutes which was a better time than last night.

Padron Anniversario 1926 #9 CPW

And New York State is voting on increasing the tax on cigars from 46% to 90%. If it passes, I am screwed

I’m a Believer

Off today. And so far no rain. It is supposed to rain tonight. Have a few things to do, some running around, so in a little while I will be heading out to get a start on it. Need one or two new shirts for work and maybe a pair of shoes that are good for standing around in for 9 hours.

Last night had some nice dreams, mainly about making new friends. One dream involved me driving around Washington Heights, Harpy territory. Narrow streets in what seemed to be a Mini Cooper. That dream was like a conclusion that happened on the other side of the George Washington Bridge in Fort Lee.

Another dream took place in an airport where I made friends with a woman sitting next to me at a bar. Then I was on a bus, more than likely driven by Bill and I talked to my Uncle Joseph about the new friend.

The last dream involved me talking to a very big man, almost a giant, who was very sensitive and didn’t have many friends. That last dream seemed to take place in Hoboken on Pier A, and I brought the giant friend into a function at what a cross between the W Hotel and the Saddle Brook VFW.

Yesterday at work, after I was entered into the system I checked my name and in doing so I found my cousin Randall who now lives in Ronkokoma on Long Island. I hadn’t seen Randall in 35 years or so and couldn’t find any reason to get back in touch with him.

His info was last updated in 2002. I much preferred my cousins from my mother’s side of the family to my father’s side. And hopefully I will be seeing some of the good cousins next month at the party. The party which is causing me some anxiety.

I’ve already asked some people for help. Some friends are helping set up, another friend is making salad. Yesterday the song that kept playing in my head was Ringo Starr’s You’re Sixteen. Right now it’s Chicago, Just You & Me. I prefer Ringo of course.

Part of my running around involved going into the city and also the Newport Mall in Jersey City. Instead I’ve only made it to the Burlington Coat Factory where I bought 2 new dress shirts for work, on sale.

Now I have to go to the Post Office and drop off a package to be repaired by Eagle Creek. Zipper broke on my bag and it has a lifetime warranty. It’s being shipped to Inwood which is on Long Island.

I also have to go to Inwood at 2:00 on the 28th to take a class in being a tobacconist. According to Don Birch, it’s mainly things that I know already. In a bad neighborhood. And then it’s back to work after that.

So it’s been a good day. Despite the overcast clouds which have largely disappeared, I enjoyed walking around Hoboken. Back to work tomorrow, next day off is Tuesday.

And then I have the last weekend in June off. Would be nice to go to the beach, but I doubt that will happen, unless you, dear reader shows up on Saturday morning in a car ready to drive down to Sandy Hook.

I’d be willing to help pay for gas. And if not Sandy Hook, Monmouth Beach will do.

Now I am off to pick up Bill’s laundry and dry cleaning which includes some of my shirts. So I guess it’s our dry cleaning and laundry.

Ah, the civil unioned life. Quite civil.

Appel Indirect

Getting ready to work the late shift again. Had some interesting dreams last night, specifically a dream where I was in Manhattan, around 57th Street.

I was at a bar which resembled the Carnegie Club, but it was a gay bar and instead of being behind Carnegie Hall it was right next door. I had some books or magazines and needed to get home but something kept me where I was.

I left and walked towards 6th Avenue, and soon I found myself in a taxi driven by a chatty and obliging driver who dropped me off near the bar I mentioned before. I got out of the cab and walked around a bit, when I realized I left the flip flops I was wearing in the cab.

I went to a store across the street from the bar and found some European merchants who sold me a pair for $3.99. Then I headed to the bar but I couldn’t find the entrance since there was a lot of scaffolding erected.

That’s when I woke up to the sound of Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran. Not my favorite song or band, but it certainly got me out of bed. Overcast day. I watched True Blood last night.

So much happening. A very fast hour. Nice butt on Eric. But I’m not an ass man, man. In started to watch Treme afterward when my old friend and former roommate Kevin called.

It was a fun talk almost 90 minutes. A wide range of subjects were touched on, friends, alcoholism, drugs, family, movies, Maxwells, bad choices and of course, art. Kevin is one of the best artists I know and it’s good to see he is still at it out there in Pennsylvania.

I am now friends with him on Facebook (which he recently reluctantly joined) and MySpace. My MySpace page was covered in cobwebs since I hardly ever go there. It was funny to find he’s friends with my sister in law Elaine’s nephew, John.

I made two new play lists for the store, one of Maria Callas with a smattering of Kiri Te Kanawa and another list of Django Reinhardt. Last week when I played the very long play list, when some opera came up Marcus was greatly impressed with it and I tried to find some more.

Unfortunately I had maybe two other songs which went into Malcolm McLaren’s Madam Butterfly. Last week I also raised some eyebrows when The Bird & the Bee’s song, Fucking Boyfriend came up.

You’d think that a room full of men smoking cigars wouldn’t have any problem with Inara George singing, ‘would you be my fucking boyfriend’, but they did. No one complained outright but a few comments were made so in order not to ruffle these sensitive feathers, I deleted it.

That as well as Bodies by the Sex Pistols.

It’s an overcast, muggy day and they’ve been saying that it might rain later on. For once they may be right. I’m wearing a suit that I don’t think I’ve worn in about 6 years. I wonder why that is.

I’m sure I’ll find out. I’ll be working later on and notice a tear or something that will remind me, just why this suit has been hanging in the closet. Better the suit than me I suppose.

Have a good day. I hope to.

The Right Stuff

Holy Thursday Batman! That’s what today is on the 4:30 Movie. The Robe and the Matching Slippers. Blessed art thou who weareth the slippers.

I just got back from some busking. Played for about 90 minutes until my arm cramped up. You’d think my arm would be used to repetitive motion, I mean I even shaved my palms and wear corrective lenses. I made $1.77.

Didn’t do any singing, just strum strum strum. I played Love Shack, Hercules, Good Lovin’, All My Loving, Please Please Me, So It Goes, Whatever Gets You Through the Night, Surrender, Take Your Mama, Brown Eyed Girl, Peggy Sue, The Letter, Half a World Away and a little bit of Mr. Tambourine Man and a slightly askew version of Fourth Time Around. Also 2000 Miles.

It’s a good thing I didn’t sing, especially with 2000 Miles being a Christmas song of sorts. But the chords have a nice progression. Stopped by the Guitar Bar and firmed up plans with Jim Mastro for Saturday morning.

He asked if I had anything planned to say and I told him I didn’t because I don’t. Jim was very supportive of my busking and recommended having the guitar case open to collect bills and change.

I had a phone call from Pedro who prefers Riker’s Island to home. Cabin fever pitch. He was heading into Manhattan and asked me to join him. So now, I’m home and called him to make sure since last time he said that, I went into the city and was unable to contact him.

I didn’t mind, I was able to go to JR Cigars and pick up some cigars anyhow. This time, I’ll just stay in Hoboken and see if he calls before I do anything. Annemarie planted that idea in my head, to make sure Pedro would be around. I was hoping he would be, not just to hang out with him but to also pick up the latest Mojo and Uncut.

Got another US Census form in the mail. I got one a few weeks ago and duly mailed it in. Now here it is again. I marked Bill as my unmarried partner. If I fill it out again, maybe I will mark him as my husband.

Crazy cannabis free dreams again last night. One involved living back in Lodi with two terriers named Jackie and Jibby. Frank and Elaine were living in the Iwanicki house next door and I could hear Elaine and my niece Corinne have a heated discussion about something. There were also some ominous overtones with regards to something in the backyard of 13 Riverview.

And Starlings. Did you know Starlings aren’t native to North America and that someone imported them with the concept of having all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare living in North America? And now the Starlings are taking over the Sparrows? I read that somewhere. Bad idea, not fully thought through.

The other dream took place in Manhattan where I was pedaling a Pedi Cab on Seventh Avenue then lending it to Rachel Maddow for the opening of City Boys, a musical about Cowboys in Manhattan.

I was also wearing a cowboy hat and my former coworker Sarah Pierson was in the dream as well, and I took her on a bicycle tour of Hoboken. Strange dreams indeed.

Other than all that, it’s been a beautiful day. I heard from the Hudson Reporter about a letter I wrote supporting the bibliothèque. Just confirming that I was who I said I was.

I always need to confirm that, if not to other people then to myself.

And twice I’ve been in the supermarket and both times I’ve heard The Right Stuff by New Kids on the Block and I found myself singing along.


I am who I say I am

I am who I say I am

The Telephone Always Rings

Oh it’s been a big blue sky today. After the past couple of days of gray and rain, it certainly is nice to be out and about in sunlight. I made it a point to go out and walked over by the river, by Pier A and checked out things.

Lot’s of people out and about. The unemployed, the dog walkers, the stroller set, the runners & joggers and the employed out for their lunch break. I made my way up there after stopping by the Multi Service Center on Grand Street in Hoboken to pick up the papers from last week’s civil union thing.

I was told to look over to see if the info was correct and it was except for them having Bill’s birthday as June 26 instead on the 29th. If I didn’t catch that I would have been marrying a fraud and you know that would just be so wrong. What’s the point of having second class marital status if it’s a sham?

Such a depressing place to work, but it’s a job and I suppose it’s what you make of it, so who am I to talk? I ran into 2 Irish gents who were wandering around Hoboken looking for Piccolo’s, which is a cheese steak sandwich shop where they play all Sinatra, all the time.

I hadn’t been there since the 1980’s but I did give them the proper directions which the Hoboken natives sitting around outside the center were unable to do. I wished them well saying ‘Good luck Lads’ even though they were considerably older than me.

I saw Jim Mastro once again, annoyed the hell out of him I’m sure. We discussed a unique guitar that I saw the other day, not that I want to for myself but I had never seen a guitar like that before. It’s a Hanson Guitar, and it looks cool.


Jim said he plays one, but I have yet to hear it for myself.

Then I wandered up to Pier A and took some snapshots, before walking over to Sinatra Park where I sat and read in Mojo magazine, articles about Judy Collins, Serge Gainsbourg and Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators.

I took plenty of pictures mainly through the cellphone which get uploaded to Facebook almost immediately, or as long as it takes to go from my phone to the satellite. Came home, read emails, read the New Yorker from weeks ago and spoke on the phone with Juan who was hilarious.

He may be up in this area on Saturday so it might be nice to see him. Also heard from Casey Chasm who wished Bill and myself ‘mazel-tov’ on our marriage. I had to correct him and thank him at the same time, telling him that it was just a civil union, not a marriage. Yet.

Last night, or rather this morning I had a dream that my brother Brian was singing at Lincoln Center. Annemarie flew in for it, a lot of relatives and friends were around. I was living in Lodi and could not get a ride to Lincoln Center.

I walked down to Route 80 and tired to hitchhike to no avail. Tried to get a ride on a coach bus but the driver wasn’t paying attention and smashed into a tree by the VFW Circle on Saddle River Road. I wound up yelling at everyone at the Saddle Brook Howard Johnson’s and in so doing I woke up angry.

Not the best way to start the day, upset at imaginary situations but some coffee and the beautiful day took care of all that.

3.16.10 Hoboken 002
3.16.10 Hoboken 008
3.16.10 Hoboken Rooftoppers 014

Bony Moronie

Wow it’s chilly out today. Been in the 30’s most of the day. No way was I going out to play guitar. No way, uh uh, not me. Julio came up last night after seeing Stine and Alexander to the airport. They were en route to Copenhagen where they eventually arrived safely.

Julio was of course feeling lonely, no little guy excited to see him and I’m not the guy excited to see him anymore either. Sure it’s good to see him but it’s not like how it used to be. I told him he was welcome to come up to watch a movie on the provision that he does not criticize the shape of the apartment.

Apparently he has a problem with rectangular apartments, the rail road style even though he lives in almost the same type of apartment. I asked if he had seen Snatch, to which he asked if that was the one with Brad Pitt, where you can’t understand a word he says. It was and he didn’t want to see that again.

He’s always had a problem with seeing a movie more than once, so that meant the Dark Knight was also out of the picture. We agreed on The Lives of Others which takes place in East Berlin in 1984. I had taken it from the library a few weeks ago but wasn’t in the mood for a subtitled movie after all and returned it unwatched.

I have to say it was totally engrossing and an interesting view on East German lives while the wall was up. Bill came home midway through and it was too late for him to get into, plus he was driving a bus to Atlantic City today and had to plan his routes, so he set himself up in the kitchen while Julio and I sat in the darkened media room/living room- room where the couch and the TV are and were both taken by the film.

The film was really quite good and I can’t recommend it enough. Julio also brought up the rest of the Galician wine we had the night before in his apartment and we polished it off. When the movie was over, Julio went home and fell asleep, Bill moved into the now lit media room and continued plotting his course.

Soon he too went to bed, and I went out after not really watching Saturday Night Live to get some money to lend to Bill since he’s broke at the moment. I also chatted on Facebook with a grammar school classmate, Donna who asked if I knew if another classmate had died. Jimmy Murray did overdose a few years ago, from what my brother Brian told me. On August 21, 2011 I heard from another classmate from St. Francis de Sales that Jimmy Murray is still alive.

Brian worked with Jimmy on a job a number of years ago. Jimmy grew up faster than I did, was groping girl’s breasts in 6th grade and probably smoking weed around the same time. After 6th grade he left parochial school and went to public school which was the last I heard of him.

Donna also mentioned another classmate, Steven Bronder also passed away, likely from an overdose as well. When I went to my high school reunion for the first and only time, I ran into another former grammar school classmate Jimmy Bartoli who told me that Steven was a crackhead who was busted for lurking about the elevators in an apartment building across the street from the Lincoln School on Main Street in Lodi.

Donna made overtures about an informal reunion of my grammar school classmates after the holidays which made me think that informal meant that black tie was not required. I told her that it would be in the timing since I was presently unemployed. She remarked her boyfriend was also out of a job.

I also told Donna that I don’t drive, not because of a DUI or DWI or anything like that, just that I got burnt out on driving and after having not driven for over 20 years now, I certainly have no desire to do so again. Having been a pedestrian all these years I see how horrible drivers are these day and plus, I wasn’t that good a driver to begin with.

Donna’s still in Lodi, raising her 2 boys, one is looking at college now. She asked how long Bill and I have been together and yes, it’s been 9 years. She was impressed by that and happy that I was happy. She was OK with my being gay since her older brother was gay as well. I sort of figured that out in 1976 since all her older brother listened to was the soundtrack to A Chorus Line nonstop.

It was a fun chat and it lasted longer than I anticipated. At 1:00 I told her I needed to get ready for bed and thanked her for the chat. It should be nice to see her again. I haven’t seen her or most of our classmates for over 30 years. Maybe that was enough, maybe not. It remains to be seen.

I did have a nice walk around Hoboken today, running from health food store to health food store, pricing Stevia. Decided to forgo the Hoboken Farmboy since they were about $4.00 more. Stopped by the Guitar Boy where Jim Mastro was busy. Just saying hi and took his picture.

Tim, the teenage ace guitarist popped in. His banjo needed new strings. I asked him how many instruments did he play and he wasn’t sure so he rattled off guitar, bass, mandolin, banjo and maybe one or tow others which my older graying mind forgot.

I told him he was an inspiration and I think that made him uncomfortable. I did see him and Lily Mastro playing on video at St Peter’s Prep school and I told him how good it was. Then after wishing him a Merry Christmas I was out of there, to smoke a cigar and wander around Hoboken on my own for a little while.

When I got home, I picked out my suit and polished my shoes for an interview tomorrow morning. It was a decent day today and I hope yours was as well.

What is it?

What is it?

Mister Wonderful Jim Mastro

Mister Wonderful Jim Mastro

from Times Sq 12.2.09- courtesy of Joe Jervis/Joe.My.God.

from Times Sq 12.2.09- courtesy of Joe Jervis/Joe.My.God.