Tag Archives: Senor Spielbergo

Que Te Quiero

Just woke up from a nap. All of a sudden I was tired and felt a nap would be the way to go. Could it have been the turkey sandwich I ate? The tryptophan?

It was a nice nap though. A nice half hour. Didn’t seem like it though. Left the TV on in the next room, so as to act like a life raft and I would drift too far off into the land of sleep.

Last night I had 2 weird cannabis free dreams, one was about Lost and in the dream it turned out that Sun was pregnant with Jin’s baby, and the baby was Jin’s! Yes that doesn’t make sense but I’m talking about Lost here and that show defies the rules of logic and physics. And dramatic structure.

But like I’ve been reading in various articles regarding the 20th anniversary it all stems from Twin Peaks and how that show went so far into left field with it’s dramatic theme. A direct line through the X-Files can be drawn to Lost and it’s meandering plot and into my dreams!

It’s a conspiracy I tell you!

The other dream involved me being in a Yeshiva with some of my male co-workers and getting thrown out. My last words to my fellow Yeshiva students were, ‘Goodbye. I always liked you guys, and not in THAT way.’

I told you they were weird dreams.

Last night Bill and I watched Saving Private Ryan. He had never seen it from start to finish and I figured that since we were both watching The Pacific on HBO he should watch Saving Private Ryan.

I saw it when it first came out at the Ziegfeld with Rand. I figured that since both our fathers were in World War II it might be worth checking out.

The first 40 minutes are still as harrowing as it was the first time I saw it. Great characters, good cast. Bill was tired at first when the movie started but after the invasion at Omaha beach he was at the edge of the futon.

Probably one of Senor Spielbergo’s best. Bill really enjoyed it and I did too and I’ve seen it a few times.

Tonight Bill is back to bus driving. He claims it’s to give me a break from his snoring. The other night he was snoring again and it woke me up.

I woke him up and told him he was snoring. Then after that he was eerily quiet. Too quiet. I was worried and I woke him up again. He was irate and snarled, ‘What? I’m not snoring!’. I told him I wanted to make sure he was still alive.

The sleep apnea thing, death. You understand.

So he’s back to driving a bus to Atlantic City and I know it’s not to give me a break from his snoring. Bill loves to drive a bus. He’s always been fascinated by buses ever since he was a kid and now when he has the chance he wants to drive a bus.

I don’t mind.

And the weather seems to have gotten back to normal.

Claire!

Claire!


Not Claire!

Not Claire!


Photo-0093

New Toy

It’s a Monday and it’s Martin Luther King Jr’s Birthday. The actual birthday was Friday but since it’s a federal holiday it is observed on a Monday. And since it’s a federal holiday a lot of people have off from work.

A three day weekend for those who are gainfully employed. Alas, I am still not one of those, but I do have an interview tomorrow, which is why I got my hair cut on Saturday.

It’s an interview with a staffing agency that Risotto set up. And I am grateful. I have seen some positions on the staffing agencies website that I feel I am uniquely qualified for.

One position was for some guy who’s 6’2”, reddish blonde hair, questionable weight and a cigar smoker who wears suits. And who better qualified for that than me?

Geez, they’re showing a clip of Ann Coulter on The Ed Show. God, even the sound of her voice is horrible. Still nipping at Clinton’s heel. Oh I how I hate most republicans.

I got into an argument on Hugo Burnham’s Facebook page with some guy from Athens GA. He claimed to be a libertarian which I guess is a different stripe of republican. I was commenting on the Senate race in Massachusetts, but adding a disclaimer, that NJ elected yet another crooked republican.

He replied with a link to a right wing bloggers page with a list of democrat missteps. I felt bad for Hugo and said that I didn’t want to have a discussion about politics on his page.

Bill was supposed to drive down to Atlantic City but while waiting at a rest area on the Parkway, was notified the drive was canceled and had to drive his bus back to the depot in Wallington. I was able to track his movement, via Google Logistics.

It’s through Google and his iPhone. On his way back to Hoboken I tracked him. It was a lot like Alien, where the alien is right behind them and they can see it on the tracker but can’t actually see it since it’s really above them. But Bill is no Alien.

1.18.10 hoboken 001

Last night he went to bed around midnight. I stayed up watching TV, surfing the net, chatting with friends. I went to bed a while later and slept well initially. But Bill wasn’t wearing his sleep apnea mask which made for some snoring.

I found that if I rubbed his arm or his back he would stop snoring, but I couldn’t sleep like that since it was uncomfortable for me. So I got up at 4:00 and sat in front of the computer, getting my eyes and mind tired so I’d be able to fall asleep with little problem.

And I did.

Had some crazy dreams, R rated. Sexually charged but nothing happened due to bad connections. They occurred in Hoboken as well as a junkyard somewhere in Queens.
Bill was up and active before me, saying that he didn’t sleep well at all last night. He could have fooled me.

I wandered around Hoboken for a bit today, nice afternoon, temperatures in the 40 degree range.
Got an email from Martha Keavney inviting me to see her animations. I did, and of course they were hilarious. I was inspired enough to create 2 animations of my own. Which are below. It’s all from xtraNormal.

I also watched a video of Peter and Gordon singing World Without Love and was unnerved to see that Peter Asher seemed to be the inspiration for Austin Powers.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else – you are the one who gets burned.
– Siddhartha Gautama [Buddha]
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The Mouse that Roared

It seems like I was busier yesterday than I was today. Yesterday I suppose I was. I did go into the city and even though that was about all that I did, it was a lot more than I did today. Today I went out in the morning, bagels, papers and groceries and that was it.

Too damn cold. It’s been in the 18 degree range all day and quite windy too. That was enough for me. No need to go outside so going outside was something I didn’t do. Bill came home this afternoon after driving to Atlantic City again.

He left last night and I walked him to Church Square Park seeing him off. I then went to the supermarket for some items before coming back home and getting sucked back into watching the Lord of the Rings broadcast. Friday night was The Fellowship of the Rings, last night was the Two Towers and tonight is the Return of the King.

I watched the first part with commercial interruptions on Friday even though I have the deluxe editions for all three on DVD. Last night I switched back and forth between the Two Towers and That’s Entertainment on PBS.

It made for an interesting mix, going from Orcs to Liza Minnelli to Sauron to Van Johnson, from Esther Williams and Peter Lawford to the Battle for Helms Deep. That’s how my evening was.

Well I was just momentarily distracted. For the past half hour or so I’ve been removing and changing the name of a certain character from my past who’s parents have just found out their daughter was a lesbian.

I suppose coming out is good at anytime, but it generally best for all concerned to do it at an earlier age, rather than being outed in your late 30’s. Myself, I was outed when I was 21.

I knew right off the bat when I was 14 that I was gay, but of course in the 1970’s there was no one I could talk to about it, no support systems. Well that’s not entirely true. There was a support system, but it was geared towards adults, not teens since back then it was the equivalent of pedophilia, adult gay men giving advice to gay teens.

I was looking to move out of my parents house and with my being outed it seemed like the perfect excuse to go. I wasn’t asked to go, but I realized that I couldn’t live my life the way I wanted to if I lived under my parents roof, with their rules.

Plus installing a sling would have raised my father’s eyebrows through the roof.

I’m sure it wasn’t easy for my parents and my siblings probably had to do a rethink about what they thought about me, but other than that I was fine. I never felt any shame in being gay.

What’s the point in that? Are you going to live your life for your parents or for yourself? Are you going to live a lie, lie to your family?

I knew I was gay much like people know that they’re straight or bisexual. In fact being bisexual is probably more of a confusing thing.

Who's that lady?

Who's that lady?

Eastern Standard

A rainy Sunday. It’s in the 40’s, or so they say. I was outside earlier when It wasn’t raining and when it wasn’t too cold. But from the constant downpour it just looks like it’s too wet to go outside. But outside I must go, later on around 5:00, for tonight is the night I will be DJing at McSwells for the first time in about 15 years.

I’m a bit apprehensive, a bit anxious. Not so much since it’s been 15 years, but more like it’s from I don’t want to upset anyone with what I play. I have an idea of what I’ll play. And it will probably the first time that I’ve DJ’d at McSwells where I didn’t get fucked up.

There’s 10 bands playing, one or two dropped off the original line up which is too bad since I always enjoy seeing Karen Kuhl. From the looks of the schedule, I should be selecting songs to play for 10 minutes between each act, but things being what they are and this being a rock and roll situation, who can really tell?

I ‘m sure it will be a good time. Starts at 6PM and should go to 11PM but you know these Rock & Rollers…

Last night was a good time for sure. My former boss Risotto and his partner GFunk threw a nicely sophisticated party at their place in Newport. It was a pleasant walk over to Newport from Hoboken, Bill hadn’t walked on the walkway that was opened a few months ago connecting Hoboken to the Newport area of Jersey City.

Bought a bottle of wine since it’s good form not to show up with one arm longer than the other. Had the wine in my shoulder bag as Bill and I strolled over enjoying cigars and made it to the 21st floor apartment.

Very nice space and as Risotto does things, a place for everything and for everything a place. It was the first time I had met Gregoire and he seemed like a nice enough fellow. Quite a mix of friends, all pleasant and interesting.

I had a few glasses of wine and Bill and I mingled. The food was excellent as was the wine. The view from Risotto’s apartment was interesting enough to look across and see other people in their apartments. Some parties going on, some other things going on as well.

It was a bit like Rear Window by Alfred Hitchcock, with me playing the Thelma Ritter role instead of James Stewart or Grace Kelly. Unfortunately after a few hours we needed to leave since Bill had to get up mighty early to drive a bus once again to Atlantic City.

But we had a good time with Risotto and GFunk and their guests and wished them all a happy and healthy holiday. Bill and I had another leisurely stroll back to Hoboken, where the bars were packed once again.

Bill was soon ready for bed, I stayed up and watched Saturday Night Live, not really paying much attention but from what I did pay attention it was merely OK. They are doing good by not letting the sketches run too long.

Bill was gone by the time I woke up and got the paper and some things for breakfast. And so far most of the day has been spent on the phone with Annemarie, my brother Frank and brave Ulysses. Ulysses called to see if I heard from Pedro who flew down to Puerto Rico last night for his father’s funeral. I hadn’t and didn’t expect to.

Annemarie was calling just to check in on a Sunday like we do, Frank called and told me he more than likely wasn’t going to show up at McSwells tonight.

Too much of a hassle with the rain and parking. I don’t expect my brother Brian to show either since the band he wants to see, Dennis Diken & the Bell Sound is only going to play for 20 minutes or so. He could always show up but with the weather is I doubt it.

I think the main thing that is making me nervous is the fact that I’ll be using iPods instead of vinyl or CD’s. Hopefully it will work out since I followed Carson the sound guy’s instructions and bought the cables he suggested.

So my fingers are crossed and I hope it will be a successful evening for Terry Karydes.

Due to the outing of Risotto, the pictures have been renamed and made even sexier since Risotto’s parole officers are freaking out. You should have come out earlier Risotto, But to each in their own time.

Ahh what the fuck.
bill 2

jot 4

bill 3

jot 5

12.12.09 essence of ridiculousness

Bill called and told me to break a leg with regards to my DJing tonight. He says I’ll be stupendous and that was nice to hear. Annemarie and Frank said the same, so I guess I had better be on top of my game!

Flip Flop and Fly

Oh so tired, but it’s a good tired. Only have an hour or so to rest before Bill and I head over to Newport in Jersey City for Risotto’s Christmas Party. We were invited a month or so ago and now the time has come. It should be a nice time.

Hadn’t seen Risotto in years and never met his partner. It’s also within walking distance. It starts at 7:00 but we can’t stay too late since Bill has to drive tomorrow morning. We’re both looking forward to attending the party, it promises to be a good time.

Another cannabis free dream last night, involving a trip to New England. Could have been Vermont, or New Hampshire. It involved Bill, my mother, Julio, my brother Brian and my sister in law Elaine. One part of the dream involved me walking up a river, knee deep to catch up with the others.

In some bushes on the shore, there might have been my former roommate Jimmy Lee whom I asked if he had figured out a song for me. I tried to get the people in the dream to move from the bed and breakfast we seemed to be meeting at to a local cigar establishment.

Then I woke up with Don’t Rain on My Parade in my head. It was endlessly repeating. Almost maddening.

What got me out of bed was the fact that I had a plan to visit the Man Ray exhibition in Manhattan at the Jewish Museum. If you recall, I was going to go last week, but it was too cold and rainy. Today it was mainly cold. I showered, made coffee and headed out to get the paper and some bagels.

Came home, had a hearty breakfast as Bill sat and watched Lawn Hors d’œuvre . No time for Bill to watch the Closer which is his Saturday morning routine. He was off to see his mom and run around Manhattan.

About an hour later I too was headed into the city, taking the Path train to 14th Street and walking over to Union Square to catch an uptown train. On the way to the Path I stopped by the Guitar Bar and wished Jim a belated birthday and also said hello to his daughter (and mine) Lily who was working at the store for the afternoon.

Throughout Hoboken there were Santas everywhere, all participating in a Santa clad pub crawl. Walking down the stairs at the Path station there were a few Santas dressed up obviously off to participate in drunken shenanigans.

The train was crowded as was the 4 train uptown from Union Square. What was an express train, turned local once it went to Grand Central. I rode up to 96th street and thought the Jewish Museum was at 96th Street but it was at 92nd Street.

Went into the museum, was searched, as was my bag which I had to check. I walked into the galleries and took off my coat and held it over my folded arms. A few minutes later a security guard came up to me and told me I had to either check the coat or wear it.

No carrying coats at this museum. I blame Tony Shafrazi. He was the former art adviser to the Shah of Iran and his Peacock Throne, that all around Iranian ghoul who spray painted Picasso’s Guernica. Or maybe it was because it was the Jewish Museum. It was a minor hassle nonetheless.

Great pieces of art, with me having a laugh at a few pieces, like Rrose Sélavy created by Man Ray and Marcel Duchamp after they both fled Ridgefield NJ to Paris. Rrose Sélavy is a ‘person’ portrayed by Duchamp and photographed by Man Ray and it’s a play on Eros, C’est La Vie.

Hilarious I thought and chuckled. The other patrons merely sniffed. So much fun to be found, especially in the letter to Tristan Tzara where Man Ray writes “dada cannot live in New York. All New York is dada, and will not tolerate a rival.” Still rings true almost 100 years later.

After than, a cigar and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, taking pictures at whatever I deemed art and whatever screamed loudly enough for me to take it’s photograph. I’ll more than likely go back again to the exhibition, I just won’t wear such a heavy coat.

I walked from 92nd Street and Fifth Avenue to 33rd Street and Sixth Avenue. That’s about it.

Here’s some pictures.

man ray kiki

man ray le cadeau 1921

Tristan Tzara photographed by Man Ray

Tristan Tzara photographed by Man Ray

My self portrait inspired by Man Ray

My self portrait inspired by Man Ray

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 002

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 003

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 004

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 005

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 006

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 007

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 008

12.12.09 NYC post Man Ray 009

Blackout

A nice Friday. Just me and a few other people in the office today. I left at 1:30. Last Friday I was on Long Beach Island, this week- the canyons of midtown Manhattan. It’s been an on again off again day. Sometimes it’s been bright and sunny and other times dark skies. Much like my personality the past few days.

Five years ago yesterday was the last major blackout in the tristate area and beyond. I was reading Joe.My.God. last night and he had an entry about it. I commented but didn’t get in depth since I have my own blog I can get as deep as I’d like.

It was a Thursday, and late in the afternoon. I was working at Wanker Banker on the 34th floor of a 36 story building. One of the divisions just completed their first trade online and there was champagne to be had. With a slight buzz, I was sitting at my desk making plans to split early when the lights flickered and finally went out.

A meeting hosted by the evil fusspot Joe Smershberger had just started. I called Bill to find out what was going on in his office at 42nd Street in Times Square. There was the chance that it was a blackout from 42nd st to 57th st, but it was throughout Manhattan, and as we found out, the other boroughs, the rest of the state as well as New Jersey, Connecticut and beyond.

My boss, Risotto and I went about following the building manager’s directions and proceeded to get everyone out of the office via the stairs. Joe Smershberger had a fit, and insisted on staying. Fine with us. We abandoned him and his guests and walked down 35 flights to the street, in dress shoes.

When we hit the street my legs were like rubber. People all over the place, in the streets and on the sidewalk I lit up a Padron which of course Risotto had something to say about which I basically ignored. We were with Sweet Sarah who had gone downstairs previous to the blackout and didn’t have to walk down the flights of stairs, though she did have to wear heels for the rest of the day since that was all she had.

We started walking downtown, Sweet Sarah was staying with friends and Risotto and I had to head back to New Jersey. I bought some beers which were going cheap since all the refrigerators were off. We walked down Sixth Avenue, passing a group of cops.

One of the cops saw me with the bottle and said that what I was doing was illegal. I brazenly told him that I thought he had bigger problems at that moment than me drinking out of a brown paper bag. That was that and I kept walking.

Risotto and I walked Sweet Sarah to 34th Street and she walked east while we walked west. We had heard that the buses were not leaving the bus terminal, the Path train of course was out so we walked to the river, thinking of catching a ferry.

It wasn’t like 9/11 when all the ferries and boats were taking people across the Hudson River for free. No, the ferries were jam packed or out of fuel and the boats were gouging the people with a $50.00 charge across. All this time Risotto was nipping at my heels, sounding like the Donkey to my Shrek. ‘What are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go?’

There were three women that also followed us around, not knowing what to do. We hopped on a NY Waterway bus and sat in traffic for about 30 minutes, finally moving about 20 feet. We walked over to the bus terminal where people were swarming over the buses, trying to get out of the city before night came.

There was the unspoken fear that something like 1977’s blackout would happen. Crime and looting. Hours had passed by then, no more beers, no more cigars. I suggested hitchhiking by the Lincoln Tunnel but Risotto was against it saying that if he was driving he wouldn’t pick anyone up.

The women we were with eventually found some other alpha males to tag along with and ignoring Risotto I walked over towards the tunnel and put my thumb out. In less than a minute I was picked up. Risotto somehow jumped in the car before me and nabbed the front seat.

Our driver was a very nice young woman, a tennis pro off to a tournament in Maryland. She had 5 other people in her mid-size car. It was cramped and it took forever to get through the tunnel. She needed to head for the Turnpike so I guided her through the dark Hoboken streets, getting out on the far side of town.

Risotto lived in Jersey City so I figured he would get home on his own with no problem. I wanted to walk through Hoboken to see how things were on Washington Street and everyone was out. It was dark, around 9:00.

Hundreds of people milling in the dark in front of City Hall, cars creeping down the street. I made it to my block and found that throughout all the darkness, my block actually had power. Stine and Julio were in their apartment having some cold beers and I joined them for a while.

I called Bill who was going to stay with his parents and make sure they were ok. The next day, we still had power while the rest of the region didn’t. Julio, Stine and I made plans to head to Sandy Hook. It was actually encouraged not to go to work, it was a Friday after all.

Most people in Manhattan worked in high rises and there really was no way that the work force would climb X amount of stairs especially if the office machines weren’t working.

I called Bill a few times to see how he was doing. He took it as me rubbing it in his face, the fact that I was going to be down the shore while he was stuck in Stuyvesant Town. I wasn’t. I was genuinely concerned.

The tolls were free on the Turnpike and the Parkway, smooth sailing. A beautiful day at Sandy Hook, followed by a nice visit with Connie. The power was back on and we enjoyed dancing with Connie to Talking Heads last album, Naked and making her short of breath from laughing so much.

We came back to Hoboken that night, everything was the same as it was before the blackout. Newspapers came out the next day showing people asleep on the steps of the main post office across from Penn Station. People slept in Bryant Park, anywhere they could. No major crimes and no looting were reported as far as I know.

And some pics from that day. (today really…and last week)

above pics taken with cellphone camera

Meanwhile, back in the concrete jungle…

42nd and Eighth Avenue

and finally, from Towleroad:
As a response earlier this week to revelations that Manhunt Chairman and founder Jonathan Crutchley (above, right) had maxed out his individual personal contributions to vocal gay rights opponent Senator John McCain ($2300) which we reported on Wednesday, Crutchley has apparently been pressured by the board of the company to step down as Chairman.

cut n’paste for the full monty
http://www.towleroad.com/2008/08/manhunt-chairma.html