Tag Archives: Keith Richards

I Am the Law

Well here I am again, standing behind the counter at the cigar shack. Thomas is pounding out a rhythm, totally flat and off beat, his titanium ring hitting the wood of the counter and making quite a noise. No charm in that.

It’s been a better day than yesterday, time is flying by- not like the other day when it really zoomed but faster than yesterday. I finally finished the Keith Richards autobiography and I enjoyed it very much.

He explained how he fell off the ladder in his library as well as falling out of a tree in Fiji. He says he did not snort his father’s ashes and I believe him. That story came after his brain surgery and the doctor told him, ‘No more bumps’ which means no more cocaine.

And the story went that Keef mixed up his father’s ashes with some blow. His relationship with Mick is like 2 brothers, bitchy and forever intertwined. I can relate to that somehow.

Now perhaps I can get back to the New Yorker where I am reading about Jane Fonda and I have not even cracked open Mojo or Uncut yet. I’ve been carrying it around in my bag since I bought it a few weeks ago.

Listening to Bob Dylan’s Love & Theft in the store right now. It could be my favorite Dylan album. Bob is going to be 70 in a few weeks. I saw him in the 1990’s but did not stay for the whole show.

At the time I was more interested in seeing Patti Smith who just came out of exile after Fred Smith passed away. Bob was nice enough to offer her the opening slot on the tour and she wisely took it.

I went with my Weehawken roommate William. It was odd being in the lobby of the Beacon Theater and seeing familiar faces of people that I had assumed that had died a while ago. The look of shock on my face was more than likely noticeable.

Patti Smith was enjoyable and since I was not so much into Dylan at the time, we left midway through his set. I didn’t get it and I think he was doing Alabama Getaway when William and I made a hasty exit. Not into the Grateful Dead at all you see.

Right now I am downloading the Roches self-titled debut album. I’ve always liked them and was fortunate to see them twice, once at Town Hall as the Roches and once at the Bottom Line as the Caroling Carolers.

When I worked at Farfetched I would play Keep on Doing, the Roches third album often and almost every time I would play it, someone would ask if they were hearing the Roches and when I would answer affirmatively they would almost always go on about how much they loved them.

I also have to confess that I had a crush on Margaret A. Roche for the longest time, nothing sexual just a sheer admiration since she wrote some of their most beautiful songs. I have their debut on vinyl somewhere but I felt I needed to have The Hammond Song on mp3 and on my iPod.

And of course the Roches tie into the Wainwright family thanks to Loudon’s wandering eye. I expect to be playing it at the cigar shack tomorrow. That should raise a few eyebrows. Hey, if you’re in the neighborhood, stop on by and say hello. Just don’t be a douche.

Now I am home and quite happy to be here. Bill is awake, first time in days that he’s been awake when I walked through the door. It’s nice to see him in a vertical position.

I Slipped, I Stumbled, I Fell

Today is Friday and it’s also April Fool’s Day, making it April 1. It didn’t snow, in fact it was much like yesterday. Cold and drizzly mostly. It’s been a slow day at the cigar shack. Last night I left a few minutes early and was able to ride the bus home with Hyman Gross.

Tonight someone has to stay late (Calvin: Want to make some overtime John? Me: No. Get the Bradley to do it.) since there is some maintenance going on in the man cave. There is a very short man crawling around in the ventilation system, cleaning out a lot of gunk that has accumulated over the years.

Last night I took 2 melatonin tablets which helped me sleep so much that I really did not want to wake up and go to work this morning. I slept quite soundly and when I told Bill about the melatonin he asked if he could have a tablet since he hasn’t been sleeping too well as of late. I told them where I keep them.

I also saw Rand while I was waiting for the bus, just for a minute though since he was headed for a meeting at Stacks Pancake house. My type of meeting, lots of syrup. Reading the Keith Richards bio, which I neglected (didn’t know) it was written with James Fox, who probably deserves the lion’s share of credit for the exceptional narrative.

Now Keef is in art school and learning how to play guitar. He’s just met Mick and Ian Stewart and Brian Jones. It really is a fun book, I recommend it. I have until April 6 and since it’s such a new book I can’t renew it since someone is waiting for it.

My left leg is fine mostly. It’s when I stand up after sitting down, that’s when the problems start and then lately it goes away after a few minutes. Is it possible? Am I getting old? I mean in less than 2 years I will be 50 years old and I have to tell you, I never expected to make it this far.

And having written that, here comes a bus, barreling down after me, to make my words and give them that extra dose of irony. And since the Bradley is staying late (and he opened up my usual register) I get to leave a little after 9:00PM tonight.

I don’t think I will wait for the 9:42 bus to ride with Hyman Gross (sorry Hyman) but I would rather just go home and be with the one I love. And having written this much, it’s really one less thing I have to do tonight.

Well I might have written that too soon, since I haven’t hit the 500 word mark yet. For those that play at home, you probably realized that I write about 600 words every day lately, but tonight I will be satisfied with 500.

I hope you are satisfied with 500 words as well, but if you’re not, then TS. Thinks don’t always turn out as planned of course. I left the cigar shack at 9:00, leaving the Bradley behind the counter.

Despite my leg acting up lately, I decided to take my time, enjoy a cigar and walk (not stomp) down the avenue to the bus terminal. I was enjoying David Bowie, a playlist I made for my iPod. The cigar wasn’t that great but the weather was better than it’s been all day.

As I entered the terminal I noticed that I could easily catch a 9:25 bus and be back in Hoboken in no time. I was looking forward to reading more of Keith Richards book and seeing Bill soon enough.

I thought about calling Hyman to tell him I wouldn’t be on the bus with him, but decided and followed that line from Bob Dylan’s The Wicked Messenger, ‘If ye can’t bring good news, don’t bring any’.

I ascended the escalator and as I approached the gate I saw Hyman. He didn’t see me, and I almost kept on going. But I decided to see if he was OK. Hyman saw me and said he was glad to see me.

He said he was exhausted and I offered my arm and together we ascended another escalator and worked our way through self-involved twenty somethings to the gate where we needed to be. The bus I could have taken was idling and Hyman said I could take that instead of waiting with him, but I couldn’t leave him like that so I stayed.

I’m glad I did, it was a nice ride and a nice talk. Now I am home and don’t plan on doing anything else except to finish this entry. And the final word count, 803.