Tag Archives: Central Park Skate Circle

Addicted

Well today I came to the realization that I am addicted to the Internets. I do spend a lot of time online and sometimes find myself away from the computer thinking about what is going on, online. Today was no exception.

Now I am a member of a few Yahoo groups, one of them pertains to big men. Big muscle men. A stereotype I know, but it works for me.

So the other day I get a posting in my email with some pictures of a certain body builder, really phenomenal. Who cares if he can barely complete a sentence. Maybe he can, I don’t know. Stereotyping again.

Anyhow, I was smitten. Plain and simple. Enough so that I replied to the whole group like most everyone does, and I used one word, ‘DAMN’. What guys say or think when they see a hot guy or girl, DAYUM. He was hot or hawt.

This wanker in the UK, some older flabby geezer took offense to my one word comment and decided to speak on behalf of all those who could give a shit. But me, being me of course kept taking the bait this fallen Mr. Clean looking type put out there.

It escalated this afternoon to the point where I just had to leave the apartment, he was potentially ruining my day. I did feel bad for this geezer, such a lonely chap living by Heathrow.

I’m sure the planes taking off and coming in would have an effect on this misbegotten son of a slug and he decided to go after me. With horrible spelling at that.

He was trashy and offensive enough that I felt compelled to head into the city and seek refuge by the skate circle. I took the Path train in and walked to Grand Central Station, then the train up to 68th Street/Hunter College.

It is the last Sunday of the summer.

I walked over to the park, tons of tourists. I enjoyed another cigar that Bill gave me and sat on top of Bear Hill overlooking the skaters. This UK arsehole got under my skin enough that it took a while to relax and chill out to the music.

It was a beautiful day though, people with dogs socializing with other people with dogs, some baby wrangling going on. A woman with her baby was trying to position her toddler so the photographer could take the picture with a Wish You Were Here/Happy Birthday balloon just so.

The DJ was really cookin’ when they stopped things so they can eulogize someone who was no longer with them. Apparently he passed away during the week. It went on and on enough to make me realize that I was hungry.

Hungry enough to head home.

Walked through midtown, chatted with Planet Bernadette calling from the ledge. I followed Bill’s advice and avoided the bus terminal. Sunday evening the Lincoln Tunnel is packed with people coming back from wherever it is that they were.

I got myself a seat and regretted not having something to read. All I had was the New Yorker and I had read it already. Still, it’s good to be home, UK wanker geezer has been marked as spam so I won’t be hearing from it anymore.

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9.20.09 Nyc 003

Time After Time (Annelise)

Nice and tired. Did a lot of walking last night and slept well, did even more walking today. Would have been a good day for a bike ride, but it was way too warm for that.

Since I did some work for Greg Stevens yesterday I decided to head back into the office and just tidy things up for when Greg got into his office tomorrow morning.

I did my usual Sunday morning thing, bagels, newspapers and whatnot. No murderous impulses towards my fellow Hobokenites, it was a warm morning all around. Bill was gone by 7:00 this morning, some big church function.

Came home, had a good breakfast and read the papers. After a while I figured it was now or never so I headed into the city around 1:30. Ran into Rand and Lisa on the bus, they were going to see Billy Elliot on Broadway with some of Rand’s relatives, already in the city.

I explained to them what was going on with me with regards to the Xanax and I was surprised to see Rand have a frown about it. Well it’s working well for me, even at half the dosage prescribed.

He recommended exercise, much like Annemarie did the other day, but there’s no one around to exercise with basically.

There are those Tai Chi classes in Bryant Park on Thursday mornings that I never had time for but now I might be able to find time. Well see about that come Thursday morning.

Made it to the office, wisely sidestepping the Madison Avenue street fair. No one in the office at all today and I was able to get somethings together and make life a little bit easier for Greg Stevens.

Grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and decided to head up to Central Park. I did not want to see or hear Dinosaur Jr so I walked over to the skate circle.

Found a seat by the flagpole monument and sat down, enjoyed a cigar and read the Tom Waits biography. Almost done with it and it’s due back at the library tomorrow.

A beautiful day, lot’s of people in the park. No bears on Bear Hill, but quite a few baby strollers. I guess the bear thing is a Saturday event. The music was classic disco mainly and when it started getting all housy housy I made my way out.

Still people were streaming into the park, lot’s of tourists. I strolled down Sixth Avenue to catch the Path train and one pulled into the station just when I got there. More reading about Tom Waits in an air conditioned train car.

It’s just been a nice, calm day. Really stress free, not even relatively.

I know why that is and I’m sure you have a pretty good idea as well. Feeling the way I am now is so much better than the internal rage that I carried around and never really wrote about except one or two times, which inspired my brother Brian to write that I sounded like our father.

Things have been getting quite intense for me and I needed something fast. And I think I found it for the time being.

So I’m cool.
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It’s A Sunshine Day

It was a beautiful day yesterday and it continues today. Last night was so nice I actually left the apartment and walked around for a spell. I smoked a Padron and wandered Washington Street. Cafes and restaurants were bustling.

20 years ago I would always bump into someone I knew, nowadays I don’t know anyone. People moved, sobered up or overdosed I guess. Some of you who’ve I known have done that.

I enjoyed walking around by Pier A, a few fishermen, some couples and various groups of friends. I’m basically a shut in, I go to work and I come home. That’s about it. I forgot about the social scene that exists in Hoboken.

Big doormen checking IDs from various vapid 20 somethings that I could have sired if I was so inclined. I probably fit the bill, walking around smoking a cigar whereas everyone else was wearing the branding that they pay a lot of money to promote.

I strolled by Church Square Park on my return, disappointed that the regional basketball games weren’t happening. I hope I didn’t miss them entirely. I could hear the referee’s whistle from where I sit in my apartment, but never heeded the call.

The walk lasted an hour and I was soon back home, not watching anything in particular and going to bed not too long after that. That’s my Friday night in Hoboken.

Woke up around 8:00 this morning, taking my time before I headed out to do some shopping. I needed to get some more Stevia, some lettuce and of course bagels and the newspapers. Came home, had a nice breakfast and tried to think of something to do.

I watched SCTV: The Early Years and while it’s still funny, it really hasn’t aged too well. Plus after watching current comedies without laugh tracks, it’s unnerving to hear one from 30 years ago.

I decided around noon to go for a bike ride. Nothing planned really, just seeing where the bike would take me. I wound up riding to the Ninth Street elevator and rode it to Congress Street in Jersey City. Up Palisades Avenue, down Hudson Street in Weehawken through my old neighborhood. Some new buildings have gone up since I was last up there.

I also found that some drivers are terrible when dealing with a bicyclist on the road, but the ones talking on their cellphones are the worst. Really dangerous to everyone. And I was almost doored twice. New Jersey is so NOT bike friendly.

I’ve heard talk for years of a path from Bayonne up to the George Washington Bridge but it’s just talk. The right palms aren’t being greased. I take the side streets which are generally wide enough but still one has to maintain strict attention to everything that is going on. That’s a basic rule when riding a bicycle and no, I don’t wear an iPod when cycling. I have enough songs floating around my head and they provide an ample soundtrack.

I had enough water and made it to Fort Lee safely. Then it was over the bridge which still intimidates me. I’ve been riding across it for years but still it freaks me out. No stopping, just getting from point A to point B, from New Jersey to New York City.

On the bridge I get passed by, by various ‘serious’ cyclists with more branding. US Postal Service Lycra and spandex gear, and various other bicycle companies on $1,000 bikes. I’m a bike rat. I wear the bike shorts but keep them underneath whatever shorts I happen to be wearing, and the usual collared shirt with a back pack on. And my bicycle helmet.

There’s a lot more dumb riders than previous rides, who stand at the bottom of steep hills and decide that would be the best place to have a chat as you’re barreling towards them going 35 miles per hour. Or the two blondes who decide that even though that certain bike path is narrow, why not stop and discuss hair tips right then and there?

I made it to Central Park unscathed, and rode over to the rock by Summerstage where nothing was going on, at least not at 3:00. I then rode over to the skate circle which was just starting up. Some of the same characters that I’ve seen over the past dozen or so years.

Roller Granny, The schizo man who was on some news magazine a few years ago. Great at his job but he occasionally winds up somewhere and has no clue how he got there, but still he winds up roller skating around and around. The buff brutha who’s been there for years. Even some of the same spectators I’ve recognized over the years.

I usually sit in the same spot which is opposite the unofficial Bear Hill. I found that out via Joe My God’s blog. I read that everyday and comment occasionally on it. Perhaps if I met Joe without his group I would say hello, but there were a few bald, heavy set guys and I couldn’t tell which one was Joe anyhow. I’m more of a wolf than a bear anyway and my lycanthropic instincts told me to keep away.

It was a brief visit in the park and I was out of there maybe 90 minutes. I decided to go back to the bike path via 59th Street. No problem getting out of the park despite all the bicycle taxis driven by utter and complete morons. I was on Broadway behind one of these twats when he decided to make a U Turn in the street.

He sort of apologized and I told him was an idiot on a tricycle who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. That’s when he decided to hit my back tire. I didn’t stop I just kept going flipping him the bird as he yelled Fuck You in a Russian accent.

I decided to do something on the way back. Instead of catching a Path train from the World Trade Center station to Exchange Place, I took it easy and treated myself to a ferry ride to Hoboken. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again anytime soon. $8.75 for a one way fare that takes 10 minutes to cross the Hudson River.

I know that it’s the fuel costs as well as paying the salary of everyone involved in the operation, but it would be cheaper if I had a car and drove into the city myself. But it was an exorbitant amount for my cheap ass. A single passenger without a bike is $7.75. That’s not bad since once you get to the city you get a bus that takes you in the general direction of wherever you want to go.

Me? I have a bike, I would get there myself thank you. Shanks mare. Next time the Path train for sure. And I wouldn’t have to listen to these newcomers to Hoboken prattle on about where the best nightclub is on 14th Street. I enjoyed today’s bike ride despite other people being around.

26 miles roughly. Not bad for the first time since last year. It would have been further if it I didn’t take the ferry.

The Hudson River

Off the bike path in Harlem

The Promenade

Shorty watching the dancers

Remembering how he used to dance…

Straight out of the news magazines….

Roller Granny

Buff brutha

Some blogging bears on the hill

Sailing past Florence…umm…err… Union City

Slouching towards Hoboken
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