Tag Archives: Pride & Equality Magazine

Crazy Water

Just got home from spending a few hours with Bill in Manhattan. It doesn’t happen as often as you might think. Bill and I volunteered to be part of a photo shoot for Pride magazine’s article on interracial gay couples and today was the date.

Bill was in the city already rehearsing for his play and I wound up taking the train in around 3:00 this afternoon. I did know what to wear so I followed Bill’s suggestion to don a suit & tie.

Don’t have to tell me twice.

Rode the train into the city, getting off on 23rd Street. Seemed like a long time since I’ve ridden the train on a weekend, when the Jersey City and Hoboken trains are combined making it a bit crowded. Still it wasn’t so bad.

I walked over to Madison Square park and sat and waited for Bill. Chatted for a bit with Annemarie on the phone, part of the weekend phone calls. Bill arrived and we walked over to 88 Lexington Avenue where the photo shoot was.

Got to the 15th floor but no one was responding to the knocking on the door. The door was unlocked and we walked in. The type of Lawn Hors d’œuvre scenario, bodies on the floor and what have you. But it wasn’t like that at all.

Joe Jervis of JoeMyGod greeted us. He arranged the whole thing. He introduced us to Warren and Marius, the director and photographer respectively. It turns out our timing was perfect since some previous couples did not show up or canceled.

Of course our timing was perfect, we were on time, we’re not your average gay people. A few pictures of Bill & I together, followed by separate shots of Bill and finally myself. The whole thing was over in about 20 minutes.

Quite painless. It was a fun time. The issue should be out next month and we hope to have some copies to share to the ones we know and love. We also invited Joe, Warren and Marius to the party in July.

Bill and I were back on the street where we both enjoyed our cigars. Bill had a plan to head over to Arthur’s for dinner, but I had the idea to use a gift card that I got a few years ago for a restaurant group in Manhattan.

The restaurant is part of the Madison Square Garden complex and we walked over there from Lexington Avenue. We were a little early for dinner so we wound up sitting in a concrete plaza across the street.

We killed about 20 minutes before heading in. I had the hostess check my gift card to see if it was still valid. I knew that it was since last time I check I was told they never expire. We sat down, ordered some Guinness, had a salad.

I ordered Filet Mignon and Bill had a T Bone steak. It was a good time. In a restaurant of maybe 100 tables there were only 5 occupied and Bill and I were the youngest patrons, not that it mattered.

We had chocolate mousse cake which was OK. Arthur’s has better chocolate mousse cake, we agreed. The time came for the bill and it was reasonable.

Arthur’s would have been cheaper but this was a special thing. With a 20% tip the gift card was all used up which was fine by me. The waitress came up and I explained that she can put it all on the gift card, her tip included. I thought that was fine, she was fairly attentive.

But whatever cheeriness she had before then totally dissipated when I gave her the gift card. Was I wrong to include her tip in the gift card? I didn’t think so. Did we commit a faux pas?

It was off-putting to say the least and even Bill noticed the change in her demeanor. Needless to say, we never saw her again. The hostess and staff were cheerful enough but that waitress left us with a weird feeling.

Of course we’re not going to let her ruin our otherwise perfectly nice day.

Now we are home. We were invited to a party, or rather our friend Lois was invited to a party and we’re thinking about going, but Bill is napping. If he’s up for it, we can make an appearance, that is when Lois gives us a heads up on the party. We’ll see.

Other than that, we’re content to stay home which is really no surprise to anyone who reads this or the Bala Cynwyd Penny Saver daily.

Just heard from Lois. ‘Heavy Metal. Low Key. Drinking.’ I respond, “Heavy metal too heavy for us. Have fun!”
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 003
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 005
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 009
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 011
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 008
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 015
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 012
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 021
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 024
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 018
5.8.10 Bill JOT NYC 020
Just a couple of gay geezers.

This is Marius’ link
We’re in good company.

Beast of Burden

On Facebook there is a theme, put up a photo of a celebrity that you look like as your profile picture. I can’t do that there, but here I can do it. I’ve heard that I look like Philip Seymour Hoffman & Drew Carey.

At the play reading I had participated in the other day one of the audience members said I looked like Jim Carrey, then he corrected himself and said Drew Carey.

Drew Carey

Drew Carey

I’ve found in these two specific instances that it can be broken down into two groups. Black people think I look like Drew Carey and white people think I look like Philip Seymour Hoffman. I myself tend to think if I’m to look like either one of these guys I would prefer Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Philip Seymour Hoffman

Philip Seymour Hoffman

I do feel slightly insulted when I hear Drew Carey.

One time, years ago I found myself in a gay bar on the upper east side on 58th street called Oscar Wilde. It was the only gay bar that I knew of that served Guinness at $4.00 a pint. One night I’m just hanging out after work and next to me at the bar is a very drunk patron who claimed to be Carlo Gambino’s son.

Carlo Gambino

Carlo Gambino

I just nodded slowly as he slurred his words. On the TV at the end of the bar was an episode of the Drew Carey show. The younger Gambino turns to me, then to the TV, then back to me and says, ‘You know who you look like?’

I knew exactly what he meant even though that, I believe was the first time I ever heard the comparison. I guess the reason I would prefer to be compared to Philip Seymour Hoffman is that I prefer his work to Drew Carey’s.

The other day after hearing about J.D. Salinger’s death, I read a few obituaries bout him. One of them mentioned a fellow college student of Salinger’s recollection of Salinger walking around the college campus wearing a black chesterfield and walking with a cane saying he was going to make literary history.

JD Salinger

JD Salinger

A  burgandy Chesterfield

A burgandy Chesterfield

Me, not Drew Carey nor Philip Seymour Hoffman wearing a Chesterfield, not a couch

Me, not Drew Carey nor Philip Seymour Hoffman wearing a Chesterfield, not a couch

And I suppose he did. I never read The Catcher in the Rye. Most people have to read it in high school but I didn’t. I don’t think it’s because I went to a catholic school since I think other classes did read it. Not sure if I missed anything.

Salinger doesn’t really come up in conversation these days anyhow. Well actually because he recently died he comes up in conversation but other than that, not really.

It’s been a cold day today. Only went outside once or twice. And that was more than enough. Too bitter outside. Bill is driving to Atlantic City tonight once again. I’m content to stay home.

I figured out why my feet are so cold in the apartment. Cold ceramic tile above an vacant, unheated apartment. Well that is what Julio mentioned the other day.

I just had a nice spaghetti dinner with some home made sauce that Stine made. Quite nice and perfect for a cold night such as this.

Beast of Burden, a reading.

In The Flesh

Thursday. Woke up when the alarm clock went off. Looked out the window and it looked foggy which was odd. Shuffled around the apartment then I wondered why I was up so early and went back to bed for another 45 minutes.

When I woke up again it was a full blown snow storm. That was a drag. I had to rally myself for the interview scheduled for 10:30. Thought about canceling the interview since I already had a job scheduled to start, but I got it together and headed out. It wasn’t too bad, just a wet sticky snow.

I forgot my umbrella and just trudged onwards towards the Path train. I was wearing a wide brimmed hat so that definitely helped with the snow. Got a seat on the train and got off at Ninth Street. It had stopped snowing in the city and the sidewalks weren’t slippery at all, just wet.

I was about 20 minutes early for the interview so I just stood outside and talked to Bill on the phone for a while. The place where I interviewed is diagonally across the street from Wolff Olins. I thought about stopping by then I thought again and asked why would I do that.

I headed upstairs to the the 10th floor at 225 Varick Street. Dismal building, even more dismal office where I waited. So this company would hire me and send me out to wherever or whatever company would require my services.

I sat and read the New Yorker from last month. Finally Tim McSorley cam out and got me, leading me into his office. He offered me a water or coffee and I politely refused. He went and got his own water, leaving me to sit there. His office was shambles, wires all over the floor. I guess it was an improvement, other people were in cubicles outside on the floor.

Nice guy though, a lot more pleasant than he was on the phone. Tim McSorley doesn’t give good phone. The interview didn’t last long since most of the questions were done over the phone.

I was out of there in about 20 minutes and headed over to a newsstand to see if they had Uncut magazine. Apparently it’s unavailable in the tri-state area. I walked over to the West 4th Street subway station and waited for the E train uptown to Lexington Avenue.

Made my way into the office, Greg Stevens wasn’t around. He was in earlier but I guess he went to the racquet club. I got his things together and waited for the movers. I did go out to pick up some lunch and got a phone call from the girl who works for Vivek.

Apparently the building management didn’t know Greg Stevens was moving out today even though I set the whole thing up last week. The left a message for Vivek and he called them. He was intentionally left out of the loop by yours truly and almost messed up all the plans I made.

I called the building manager reminding her that I called her yesterday but she was out. She mentioned that we wouldn’t need to reserve the freight elevator since there wasn’t that much to move. I got that taken care of and shortly after that, the movers came and packed things up, putting chairs under blankets and onto dollies.

Goodbye 800 Third Avenue.

I met them a little further up Third Avenue and they moved everything in with skill and speed. Greg was soon off to lunch with his brother but before he left he asked me about how much I was going to get at the new job, leaving me to believe that he was ‘fishing’, perhaps to hire me as his assistant. It would be nice to work for him, after all that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 3 years.

But that all remains to be seen. I might bring it up again tomorrow when I help Greg Stevens unpack his office.

It was a busy day for sure and I am pretty tired. Feel like falling asleep now, at 6:30, but if I did I know I would be up at 11:00 and unable to fall asleep again. So I will stay awake. I know in a little while I will get my second wind.

JD Salinger is dead. I never read The Catcher in the Rye, because I didn’t have to. Most everyone had to read it in high school, but not me. And when I heard that that was the book John Lennon’s killer was reading at the time of the murder, I never wanted to read it, ever.