Tag Archives: Fred


Last night was a pretty good night. After I wrote, I got myself together and headed into the city while most everyone at the Path station was heading away from the city.

I had the New Yorker to read as did another rider a few seats down. I tried to see what issue he was up to, but couldn’t tell except I knew it was recent since it had the iPhone advertisement on the back cover.

Got off at 14th Street and headed west, passing the vacuum cleaner store at 131 west 14th Street and took note since they’re about the only accessible vacuum cleaner store for me. And since I’m now vacuuming the hallway in my apartment building, it’s good to know.

I walked over to Eighth Avenue and 20th Street where Bill’s friend Fred was waiting outside with a friend of his, Lila. The whole get together was to celebrate Fred’s birthday which was a few days ago. Bill joined us a moment later and we ordered drinks, they had margarita’s, I had Corona’s.

Then I had possibly the best burrito I have ever had in my life. I usually eat chicken, but since it seems all I eat lately is chicken I decided to have a burrito with hanger steak.

It wasn’t Tex-Mex or Cal-Mex, and it was definitely a ‘modern’ presentation. All I know is I did not focus on anything else while I was eating it.

Oh it was sooo good.

Lila left before dinner was over, having other things to do. After dinner we walked up to 23rd Street where we saw Wolverine. It was underwhelming. I’m getting tired of the high resolution fight scenes where you really can see anything that’s going on.

It’s not even that fancy an effect. And the movie didn’t have that coherent a plot. And no cigar smoking either. It seems cigar smoking is only done by villains these days since smoking is verboten.

We stayed until the very end since there was an open door for a sequel or for another movie. We saw the set up for Dead Pool who I never heard of until this movie, played by Ryan Reynolds aka Mr. Scarlett Johansen.

That’s one way to get a head.

We parted ways at the Path train, Fred going his way and Bill and I heading back to Hoboken. And Hoboken was hopping since it was a Friday night after all.

Near the bars were groups of twenty somethings trying to figure out where the next party was, or else lurking in doorways furtively smoking cigarettes.

I don’t think Hoboken has always been a party town, more like it happened in the past 15 years or so when the gentrification was complete.

Now it’s election season in Hoboken. I keep running into an independent candidate, a handsome guy who’s name I won’t print here since he probably Google’s his name everyday.

Ah fuck it, Chris Carbine is his name.

He always catches me and always ready with a handshake. I’m polite and try not to lead him on.

I did visit his website and when I saw that he held a rally on Pier A on April 15, he asked people to bring tea bags. I always have my tea bag ready but I don’t think that was what he meant. He’s a tea bagger and not the fun kind.

And that cost him my vote.

Republican or Libertarian, no vote from me. Sorry Chris.

The election is in a few days and in Hoboken it’s getting feverish and dirty. And there still is an enormous tax levy.

I haven’t made up my mind on who to vote for, for mayor. It will be a woman, I know that much.

Voting in Hoboken for the Mayoral election always requires a shower afterwards.

Listening to River Deep, Mountain High by Ike & Tina Turner. Still an amazing song hundreds of years later.



Bill Shavin'

Bill Shavin'

B Movie

This might be the first entry that I’ve written before noon. It’s a little after 10:00 Sunday morning. I just got back from getting bagels and the papers. I get a call from Bill as I walk back to the apartment. He’s on a bus with his mother going to church, I’m on the street.

We’re talking about various trivial things, when Bill mentions that he went to see Slumdog Millionaire with his old friend, Fred. Bill’s known Fred for almost 20 years he says.

And as from what I wrote yesterday, I wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire. It’s not so much that Bill saw Slumdog Millionaire with Fred, it’s more that I have to be content with 5 minutes a day with Bill if I’m lucky.

I have to be content with Bill running off trying to further his acting career. Going to readings and practices, rehearsals and auditions while I sit at home hoping that he gets home safely, and by home I mean Stuyvesant Town. I support Bill in these endeavors, but just wish we could spend more time together.

The phone call on the street ended rather abruptly and I sent him a text saying that “I’m hurt and pissed”. His reaction? He called me, ‘Well you saw the Wrestler at Pedro’s house and I wanted to see that with you’. I explained that it was at a party and there were other people involved.

‘Well you could have said that you didn’t want to see that. You could have asked for another movie’ I explained again there were other people there and it wouldn’t be right for me to say, ‘Hey I want to see this with my partner, perhaps we could watch another movie?’

That night in Otisville we watched a boxing match, Gran Torino and The Wrestler. You could tell by the testosterone in those viewing choices that a romantic plea would not have gone down well. I did tell him when I got back that I would like to watch it with him but no plans were ever made.

‘Well you do things on your own. You go to art galleries on your own.’ I tell him I go to art galleries on my own because he’s rehearsing with his band, or has voice classes or whatever he does on Saturday afternoons that I am not privy to. And I would rather go to the galleries with someone.

I was surprised that he was upset with me because I was pissed off. He also told me he went to see The Wrestler on his own anyway. I do not like going to movies by myself. In his mind I think he feels I should be happy to be able to see him when I see him for those fleeting minutes.

And in those fleeting minutes, when I am on my way home, bundled up for the winter weather, he comes out in office wear, no coat, maybe a hat which when he goes out to see me is not enough to guard against the cold weather. So I only get a few minutes.

We don’t make the time to do anything together anymore. He has his things to do, sometimes for his career, sometimes just for a lark and I hear about it the next day. He seems to think that I want to monopolize his time and I certainly do not.

I just want to find time that might last for a few hours rather than a grouping of seconds. To his credit, he did offer to see Slumdog Millionaire with me but I told him no, that it was tainted. Plus to see movies nominated for an Academy Award is fun for me at least, but after the fact it sort of loses it’s cache.

I suppose I could wait for it to come on cable, but who knows? I’m not interested anymore really.

It’s not about the movie, it’s about the time spent.