Tag Archives: Marlboro

I Say A Little Prayer- Aretha Franklin

Third day of the new year. Slept incredibly well, crazy dreams, sexual in nature. Nothing overt but there it was in the undercurrent. Something involving time cards and a punch clock located in belts.

Then in a different dream, I bought a pack of Marlboro while walking around Columbus Circle and 58th St. I had one cigarette, not even a full cigarette and didn’t enjoy it very much. Then I had a dream where I was interviewing, or auditing a hip company, similar to the one my sister mentioned on Facebook yesterday.

White offices and things seemed to be going well until the head honcho in the office turned to me and said’ You know we don’t allow smoking here’. I couldn’t really say I stopped smoking cigarettes since I still had the pack of Marlboro from the previous dream and my breath smelled of cigarettes.

Needless to say I don’t think I got the job, much like the groovy job Annemarie told me about. I answered the questions truthfully and at the end they described their ideal candidate who would happen to be a college graduate which is something I am not. Still I sent forth my info, allowing them to be hopefully dazzled by my stellar personality and my way with words.

Already I have gotten the call from Shlomo, could I open up the cigar shop. Being 23 degrees out, he can’t get his poor old car to move. I had no problem with it, and to my surprise an hour after opening in walks Shlomo.Maybe it is the cold but he seems slower than usual, the slo mo Shlomo.

Now this is the part that gets stuck in my craw. I want to help these guys succeed. And with no smoking allowed in the store I wind up enforcing that ban. The other day a young man bought a cigar and I gave him a book of matches to get his cigar lit. He came back a few seconds later asking to light it indoors. I said no, and took a torch lighter and went outside with him and lit it for him.

Shlomo doesn’t believe in those types of rules and smokes wherever he wants, even if it means the local Board of Health shutting him down. That’s fine with me, I have nothing invested in the shop except for my time. If the place gets shut down I will just find something else to do.

And if it because of one of the owners smoking in the shop, then so be it. I can tell because a few times since I opened I noticed ashes on the floor which meant smoking was going on in the shop. But it’s not my shop and the owners, well they can do anything they want, it is their sandbox after all.

I am merely a nice guy, helping them out, but as the saying goes, I can’t help them unless they help themselves and to my untrained eye, it seems that they don’t want any or need any help, except for this one guy who can be relied upon to open the shop when it is too cold out for their Zionist hoodlum tuchis.
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What Does It Take

4th of July

Today is the fourth of July. The country is 232 years old. Or at least the Declaration of Independence was stated on this day. Actual independence didn’t happen until a number of years later. In 1976 was the bicentennial. A major event. My father was working in the World Trade Center at the time and a few months before, there was a plan to have a party in the offices so we could watch the tall ships and the fireworks from on high.

That was the plan until rumors started floating around about how gangs were going to be roaming the streets mugging the deep influx of tourists. That scared my father enough so that we spent July 4th in the backyard of 13 Riverview Avenue in Lodi, which despite what you may have heard is not the same thing.

My brother Frank had promised to take me to see the fireworks that night. He was at a party with his wife Elaine though and didn’t show up. There were plenty of firecrackers to keep me amused. My brother Brian wound up with me in the back seat of his car while him and his buddy Eddie drove around River Road in Fort Lee that night where I heard the fireworks going off overhead, not actually able to see them due to the tree tops blocking the view.

It wasn’t that bad, I still got back home and met up with my friends. I stole a pack of Marlboro’s from my mother and got caught but was let go when I explained it would be easier to light a firecracker with a cigarette rather than using matches or lighters. Somehow that worked and I walked away with a hard pack of Marlboro’s in my pocket. That’s probably when I started smoking.

Me and my friends whiled away the remaining bicentennial hours blowing up whatever we could. My sister Annemarie worked in a hospital at that time and gave us all warnings about people in the emergency rooms due to playing with fireworks, so we were careful, though a firecracker did go off in my hand, leaving my thumb and index finger numb for a few hours.

My brother Frank tried to make up for his absence the next day and gave me a copy of Abbey Road which is the first Beatles album I ever owned. I forgave him and soon got every much into the Beatles.

This year, it’s been overcast and muggy. Rained a bit today. Hoboken is like a ghost town today. I rode around, wound up by Battery Park. Bill was spending time with his mother, didn’t make it down there. I rode around, the streets crowded with tourists everywhere as well as Statues of Liberty.

The Feelies sounded great, but I couldn’t see them. I wound up outside the park and listened. Brenda was saying thank you after each song, I wonder if her mother asked her to. I was bored and decided to ride back to the Path train, taking it to Exchange Place and riding home from there.

Not much else going on today. Bill’s staying at his mother’s apartment since the fireworks will be going off 100 yards from her bedroom window. Here’s some pics.

The fans

A Klaus Nomi Statue of Liberty

The Feelies somewhere in the trees

Taking Liberties

The way in is the way out

Mennonites at the Path train!

Careful with those fireworks and have a happy Fourth of July!

Da Butt

Ok, I have a swollen face. Well it was really swollen this morning. It’s gone down considerably. Things have improved a lot between Bill and myself. Last night I took a nap from 5:30 to about 10:00. Saw Bill and went to bed an hour later. So it was cool. Still have some ways to go but he’s working on it.

I haven’t had a cigarette in over 24 hours and that is an accomplishment. I do enjoy holding one, but no lighting. Holding one is enough. If I could get off cigarettes I would be impressed. The cigars are an occasional thing though.

I certainly don’t mind being around smokers and in midtown Manhattan, outside of most office buildings there are a lot of smokers mingling. The thing is I always liked smoking. I wanted to do it when I was just a kid. I was surrounded by smokers since most everyone smoked back then. It was alright. In junior and senior year of high school, we could smoke in out designated smoking area.

Smoking saved my butt also. In summer school between junior and senior year having cigarettes helped me win favor from the ‘cool’ kids so much so, that when the regular sessions began in the fall, I wasn’t picked on so much since the cool kids liked me. For my cigarettes of course. Having 2 parents that smoked made sure that I wouldn’t be out of cigarettes. I must have had my first cigarette when I may have been about 10 years old.

Johnny Serpone, a neighbor and I plotted out stealing a pack of cigarettes from his parents and riding down to Industrial Lane on a Saturday afternoon and have our first puffs. I barely had a puff before I was wracked with guilt and fear and rode my bicycle home, gulping in as much air and running to the kitchen faucet when I got home to drink as much water as possible.

At various points in my childhood I was hanging out with juvenile delinquent smokers. At the Boys Club which was supposed to be where boys could get away from bad influences, I went out of my way to find the bad influences. Also outside the VFW where my parents hung out. Found myself outside with some naer do wells sneaking illicit puffs. I was found out though, but I doubt my siblings remember.

Everyone smoked. It was everywhere. You could smoke in the bank, in the supermarket, movie theaters were great places to smoke. Hospitals, doctor’s offices, buses, trains, restaurants. They frowned on places of worship, though one had to wonder where they got the ashes for Ash Wednesday. Having a cigarette was a good way to meet people, and not just oncologists.

You could ask someone for a light, and perhaps strike up a conversation or more. Or when cigarettes were cheaper you could bum a cigarette from someone or they could bum from you. Nowadays, people offer you money for a cigarette, sometimes a quarter, but lately a dollar.

Me, I rolled my own. Sometimes people would ask for a cigarette and I would offer a ready rolled cigarette. More often than not they would refuse, proving that beggars could be choosers. So, it’s been over 24 hours, been holding a cigarette, not lighting it. Feels good just to hold it. I guess it’s like Baretta. All I need is a cockatoo. Or was that a typo?