Tag Archives: Cleveland

I May Be Wrong (But I Think You’re Wonderful)

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Well it’s Thursday but it feels like Friday. A holiday weekend Friday no less. But still it’s a Thursday and I made it through ok. My brother in law, Rex had his heart procedure this morning and it went beautifully, thanks to the Italian cardiologist in Cleveland. I said she was Italian because she’s from Italy and apparently the only one in North America who could do the procedure that the numb skulls at UCSF did not follow up on, throwing their bloody hands in the air saying, ‘oh Rex should have come in for a follow up. I guess we should have told you, but we didn’t so you’re fucked. Bye!’ Yeah fuck you too bitches.

I got a phone call from my sister Annemarie, happy to answer it, but dreading what I might hear, but it was Annemarie crying tears of joy, that it went so well. A relief to be able to call my family and tell them the good news. Everyone happy on the family front for Rex. Good news at last.

Last night Bill came home, the third time in a row this week. It’s so good to have him around. He didn’t drive me crazy like he sometimes does. I don’t mind the crazy. I mind the moments of solitude when he’s not here. We watched the season finale of Lawn Hor d’oeuvres. And like the Olivia Show on Lawn Hor d’oeuvres SVU it had an extremely weak ending.

I could have written a better ending than what was presented. Jack McCoy, car chase, shoot out, love scene would have been miles better than the Elliot Spitzer rehash with the governor played by the young Tom Hanks look alike from That Thing That You Do getting off the hook. Bill was vocally disappointed, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I didn’t stay up for the news, I went to bed and fell asleep rather quickly. Woke up Bill still asleep next to me, looking so cute.

I got myself together and was out the door, dropping off God is Not Great at the library having finished it last night. Reading the New Yorker about a club in Hollywood called Largo. It seems it’s the in spot for hipsters and musicians, probably much like McSwells used to be in the eighties and nineties. Almost made me want to go there but realizing that if it made it to the New Yorker it’s time had come and the time will soon be past. Been there done that.

True, John Paul Jones never played on stage at McSwells but hey, we had Peter Buck having French onion soup in the front room with Julie Panebianco and that has to count for something doesn’t it?

Also read about a Jazz afficianado, or Jazz queer as Ann Boyles like to say. A fanatic, the last of a breed searching out Charlie Parker 78’s or Bix Beiderbecke sides from the 1920’s. He has a radio show on WJCR at Columbia University. It was a good article, and I related to it somewhat, though not a jazz fan per se, but the hunting down of records that I loved or heard about was close to home. It almost got me interested in jazz. Almost.

Today was the penultimate day for the sweet receptionist Lydia. That meant going out for drinks. I was smart enough to hit McDonalds and have a little something in my system before quaffing a few pints. It was me and Lydia plus Allen and Rossi. A few laughs over pints with the guys, Lydia sipping a glass of white wine. Marty Allen and I bought a few rounds, I used petty cash, Marty Allen out of pocket. Vivek showed up and gregarious as usual bought the rest of the round as well as some snacks that we could munch on.

Somehow my age came up and I was compelled for the past year to keep it under wraps, but since I was on the spot I had to tell the truth, I am 45. Their reaction? I was a young looking 45. I actually look as young or younger than them, excepting Lydia who’s 21. I act younger than them that’s for sure, excepting Lydia once again. After 4 pints, 2 more than I had planned I made an exit with Lydia, walking her to her train.

Here I am now, hearing that John McCrazy disowned John Hagee’s endorsement which is good news for the country and showing that John McCain really isn’t a good judge of character or a good judge of anything really worthwhile. Now, let’s arrest Karl ‘Big Ass Closet Case’ Rove.

Time to chill. Peace out cub scouts.
Here’s Ian Hunter, a dedication for Annemarie, Rex and Earl

What You Need

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Another rainy day. I had better not hear anything about a drought this summer, I tell you. So yesterday was a busy day work wise. I had errands to run and even had to return to Wanker Banker which is no more so I can actually call it Putnam Lovell. We had deals going on which from what I heard went well. Now that Moe Stooge is out of the picture somewhat I have to rename the other two, so Allen and Rossi will do. Marty Allen was working on some reports that had to be printed in color, and then they had to be bound.

Well we ran out of Cyan ink, which is the fancy name for Blue, and we ran out of clear plastic covers for the reports. I scrambled, making phone calls trying to get these items. I was able to get the ink, a bargain at $100.00 including delivery, to the office by closing time. Marty Allen was going to have to stay and print out what he needed. I made a phone call to the great Gazoo, my friend Gazi who is the IT guy at Putnam Lovell.

He sort of hooked me up with some plastic covers. I knew they had them since I used to order them when I worked there. They were probably still in the same place. Gazi hooked it up and I chatted with him for a spell. It’s still a ghost town on the 34th floor. Saw Diane W who I tried to introduce to Martha G, since both work in film, Martha looking for financing and Diane looking to finance. But one of them never got back to me so the ball was dropped and my producing career went down the drain. I just don’t know anyone in the building except for the cleaning staff and one or two other people besides Gazi.

Even though I didn’t have to do all that running around, I did it anyway as a way to perhaps me look good. A sterling job as the CEO of Omnicom told me when I worked for Wolff Olins. Of course that compliment didn’t sustain me that long. The CEO’s like me mostly, Don Putnam liked me and offered me a gig in San Francisco when I went out there in 2004, Brian Boylan from Omnicom telling me that I was doing a sterling job, Greg Stevens always looking out for me. I’m in a fortunate position through some sort of providence I suppose.

Thisclose to finishing God Is Not Great but it was due back at the library. The head librarian, Diane likes me and was able to extend my second renewal for another week. So Christopher ‘Love him or hate him. Most people hate him’ Hitchens gets a week’s reprieve. Bill was here last night and we watched The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I saw it initially in the theater and it was really a movie unlike any other. It certainly deserves to be seen and I think Bill was glad that he was able to see it.

Still an amazing movie, great acting all around and great cinematography. The book was even better, it had me choked up outside the library as I read the final pages before returning it. Spoke with Billie in DC last night. He’s recovering from a bout of bronchitis as well as really bad allergies. With a compromised immune system it threw him for a loop, with all the coughing he was doing he pulled a muscle in his chest which hurt when he laughed. And unfortunately I always make Billie laugh.

I think my sister made it out to Cleveland today, and I think my brother in law’s procedure is tomorrow. I’m crossing my fingers as I type.

Just found this….