Tag Archives: Weehawken

I Never Told You What I Did For A Living

Wow. I just woke up from a nap, did not set an alarm and still was able to sleep for a few minutes. I donned a suit and tie today and walked the drizzly streets of midtown Manhattan. I was in midtown last week and yesterday I had a phone call asking me to come in again. Well it wasn’t for anything earth shattering, just a request for me to come in and fill out some additional forms. Not a problem, I was happy too since not much seems to be happening at all on this side of the Hudson.

I came home after that and had a sandwich then decided to take a cat nap. I woke up to Mustang Sally playing in my head. I had a dream where I got into an argument with Rufus Wainwright (whom I’ve never met) about something on my iPod. He was quite a brat in the dream. It’s been a day with threatening rain and the occasional drizzle. Nice to stay in bed for that is for sure. It was a long nap, much needed since last night sleep was out of order despite being tired enough.

One of the forms I had to fill out asked how long have I been living where I’ve been living. And the answer to that is 10 years. It was around 10 years ago to the day that I left Weehawken for Hoboken. I still look fondly on my 11 years spent in Weehawken with my then roommate William. It wasn’t all a bed of roses during those 11 years but more often than not, we got along just fine. It was the landlords basically that sealed the deal for me up there on the Palisades. The demand that Bill not come over more than twice a week seemed unfair.

It was shortly after I turned 40 that Julio told me of an apartment in his building that was available. He might have offered it to both William and myself, not together but separately. Julio, being the mutual friend had heard enough sniping from me about William and vice versa. So I came and saw the apartment, and almost immediately agreed to move in. The landlord said it would be an extra $100 if I kept the washing machine and I told him that he could take the washing machine. It is still here.

William and his brother Chaz helped me move with Bill. I don’t think any of us had any idea what a difficult move it would be, four flights of stairs can be quite daunting and we moved over the weekend, a rainy weekend. I rode with William in his pickup and Chaz and Bill followed us. I recall hearing Cam’ron and his song Hey Ma a few times as we drove down the hill and so I will forever equate the song with the move. It was nerve wracking since after living in my parent’s house, Weehawken was the second place where I lived the longest.

I was also called Imelda Marcos since I had a lot of shoes. I still do, just don’t wear them that much anymore. I was between jobs and it was a risky maneuver, mainly working as a temp back then. The landlords in Weehawken were supposedly very upset that I didn’t say goodbye as they watched things leaving through the Venetian blinds. After everyone left and I was preparing to sleep in the apartment for the first time I was seized by a panic, ‘what the hell am I doing?’

As fate proved it turned out I was doing the right thing. The landlords in Weehawken decided after I moved to sell the building. They could have offered it to William and his brother Chaz, but instead went to a realtor and as the deal was going down, they promised the building would be empty of tenants. That was shitty since William and Chaz could have gotten a loan and bought the building from them. Instead they had to scramble. Chaz and his wife Kathe had poured thousands of dollars into their apartment to renovate, William turned a weed strewn yard into a wonderful garden full of flowers, vegetables and grapes.

Now they had to find somewhere else to live. Occasionally one of the landlords is seen in the bus terminal in Manhattan. They bought a condo a block away from where they grew up as brother and sister and it’s usually Chaz who sees the brother who never sees Chaz, which is how Chaz likes it. And now Bill lives here with me. An equal partner, no nonsense of being allowed over twice weekly. And the brother and sister are forever joined together in the Gregory Commons where they probably frighten their neighbors.

William and I were never frightened of them though we did find it odd that as the brother took a bath he would have a conversation with his sister while it sounded like she was right in the bathroom with him, or sitting just outside. They neighborhood changed after we all moved, some one was killed on the sidewalk around the block, Mary the sweet crossing guard passed away. And the building was converted from 4 apartments into 8.


give this guy a job!


Hey Ma – Cam’Ron

Wise Up! Sucker

It’s a beautiful day today. Nice and breezy, sunny, hardly a cloud in the sky.

Congratulations to Rand & Lisa for 14 years of wedded bliss. I believe the proper gift for the 14th anniversary is waffles.

Last night was another nice evening. Didn’t do much except to sweat over last night’s entry. And it was probably a bland entry, I was pulling out every word like I was pulling teeth.

I was just thinking about a bus ride into the city that I took the other day. A woman asked me if 19th and Willow was Hoboken or Weehawken. I told I thought it was Weehawken.

I lived on top of the Palisades and the area below, specifically 19th and Willow was called the Shades. It was in the shade of Troy Towers and the cliffs. Strange people down there, not really trusting of the people that lived on the top.

In any event, I told her to use landmarks instead of street directions since it would probably be easier. She mentioned that she was a former resident of Hoboken for 55 years then moved to the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico.

But now she was back for a funeral at St. Lawrence Church.

I walked over to St. Lawrence Church about 10 years ago when my landlady was on her death bed and since she was a Catholic I figured it would be nice for a priest from that parish to show up and comfort her in her final days.

The priest was hesitant, not really willing to play the role of shepherd of his flock. I sort of brow beat him into it and he did eventually show up. The landlady’s kids Derf and Pastie weren’t about to do anything like that.

The streets are still devoid of children most of the day and that’s fine with me.

I sat by the river and read the New Yorker. Also canceled my monthly bus pass from NJ Transit since it didn’t make sense since I’m not going in as often as I had used to and it is belt tightening time after all. I’m just glad I have a New Yorker subscription until May 2011.

Been listening to Lucinda Williams which an on line buddy turned me onto. She’s pretty cool and of course I heard about her for years already. Once again late for the dance.

I am thinking about heading over to Journal Square tonight to take part in a health care reform rally. I signed up to show up and since there is nothing else to do, that might be the thing to do. And I do believe in health care reform.

Last night I spoke to Lovely Rita. It had been a while since we last chatted. She is now a dog groomer and making some extra bucks which is good. I called her to let her know that 2 of her favorite bands were on TV last night, Cheap Trick was on Conan and the Black Crowes were on Letterman.

She opted for Cheap Trick since the Black Crowes have slowly been mutating into the dreaded Allman Brothers. Does that make Kate Hudson, the Cher to Chris Robinson’s Gregg Allman?

None of that hippy crap for Rita!

I watched about a minute of the Black Crowes before Cheap Trick came on and I quickly changed channels when Rick Nielsen and the band came on. I was glad that I did.

Well soon I will be headed to Journal Square so I may post later on when I get back.

Same Bat time, same Bat channel.

Well I just got back. OK turn out, maybe 100 people.
It’s strange. I must put out an odd vibe or look conservative.
No one would really talk to me about the issues though I was there to support them.
The only one who did was May Young. They need more outgoing people like May Young, that are willing to reach out and talk to everyone.
Someone like her would get more people active in the cause.

9.2.09 Health Care Rally 023
9.2.09 Health Care Rally 038
9.2.09 Health Care Rally 069

Her name is May. She was very friendly and outgoing.

Her name is May. She was very friendly and outgoing.


9.2.09 Health Care Rally 077
9.2.09 Health Care Rally 078

Bango (To The Batmobile)

And here is the last installment of what was written in 2002 about 1991/1992

Monica went back to Little Willy’s room and probably confronted Little Willy who shrank even further from reality. I didn’t care. Within a week she was gone, never for me to see her again. I did find out that while in her travels, she was badly bitten by a dog in Tibet. Poor dog, I hope he was alright.

That Thanksgiving, I woke up Thursday morning, to find that the phone had been turned off. It seems that Little Willy felt that I was reckless with the phone bill and perhaps he was right then.

But instead of talking about it with me, he took the advice of Sally Starfish an old drugging buddy of mine. The tiny terror they called her.

Good old Sally told Little Willy that he should, A) Shut off the phone and put it in his name only. B) Put a lock on his bedroom door since I was bound to go and use his phone C) Put a lock on his phone in his workshop in the basement because that would be on my list of places to visit and use his phone once I found out that his bedroom door was locked.

Sally Sally Sally. She always said she knew me better than anyone, even better than myself.

Little Willy still waiting for his backbone to arrive in the mail, merely left a note on the kitchen table, telling me what he had done.

Of course, being Thanksgiving, my family would probably try to contact me to check and see if I was ok, and I would’ve done the same, had I had a phone.

So that cold Thanksgiving morning I went out to the street armed with as much change as I could get, and set out for a pay phone. I went to the corner and it was cold in the shade of the building.

Then I remembered a block away on Palisades Ave was a pay phone in direct sunlight and went over there. Armed with all my change, I stood in the light and deposited my coins.

The coins came back out in the change slot, after the connection was made. A free call to California! A free call to Garfield! A free call to Montvale! I was living large! But without my phone book couldn’t call everyone, just the one’s who’s numbers I had committed to memory.

After the family, I called Julio. Julio I had known for a few years, both of us working at McSwells. Party buddies, drinking buddies. Very handsome he was, and all the gay barflies at McSwells couldn’t tell him enough.

I never did.

Alright I did, once, but that’s another story. He was surprised at our mutual ‘friend’ doing what he did, switching the phone off and creating a new line in his name. “That’s fucked up man.” He said. I agreed. He was busy getting ready to see his family for Thanksgiving dinner. I was getting ready to do nothing.
That was fine with me. Watched a lot of TV, smoked a lot of herb. Fairly typical. Just another day. I was able to call NJ Bell and arranged for a line to be installed in my room. Another expense, but one that was needed.

Julio mentioned my phone habit which I don’t think was that great, but he insisted otherwise. I called the Friday after Thanksgiving and scheduled an appointment for the next day. The phone guy showed up around 10am.

I was groggy from the night before and probably smelled like the night before. He took his ladder and made the connection outside and then came inside to finish the work.

When he came into my room this guy saw my records and pegged me for a DJ. He was right, and cute, but I concentrated more on his being right.

He started telling me about an old friend of his that he used to DJ with. “Goes by the name of Todd Terry. Ever hear of him?”

Almost instantly I pulled out “Bango/Back to the Beat” A very hot 12” by Todd Terry. He was impressed. I was impressed. We hung out for a while, or I hung out he worked.

I offered him some herb but he said no, he couldn’t. Small talk followed and when I asked him about the charge, he said there was none.

“You seem like a pretty cool guy. Don’t sweat it.” He left and I had a phone, free of charge, well, at least free installation.

That was a case of being in on the Cosmic Joke.

Little Willy still scampered about once again, staying out of sight.

Sally Starfish later wound up doing a similar thing to Julio vis-à-vis his roommate.

And dats da name of dat tune.

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Well last night I went to the Yankees/Blue Jays game. Bill was right, saying that he didn’t want me to be intense, he wanted a good time. I wanted a good time too. Bill enjoyed himself, I didn’t. More about that further down the line. In the interim, here is the third installment about 1991/1992 written in 2002.

“What are you talking about?” Miss Pasty asked. “I have nowhere else to go. I’ll do anything to stay here. I like you guys. Please reconsider.” Mr. Derf and Miss Pasty looked at each other.

Mr. Derf said, “Well we had a problem with you dropping the coats on the chair and the chair crashing and you guys thump around a lot but we didn’t ask you to leave.”

Miss Pasty chimed in, “Where did you hear that?” “Little Willy told me that you guys wanted me out.” “Our parents rented the place to both of you and that’s it. You and Little Willy.”

Mr. Derf added, “If one of you goes, then the other has to go too. At least that’s what my father said.” “Yeah, you should talk to Little Willy.” “Thanks Pasty, I will. Have a good dinner.”

I was relieved and confused. I saw Little Willy and asked him. He shrugged his shoulders, ran into his room and hid. Monica was still floating around the apartment.

It was now about 6 months after we moved in. I ran into Miss Pasty one day outside the building. She mentioned that her mom wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of three people living in my apartment, and then she dropped a bombshell.

“Your roommate’s girlfriend has been going around the neighborhood telling all the neighbors that you’re gay.” Wow. Monica? What did I do to deserve that? I mean I was gay, still am, but never been one to be all up in your face about it.

“Everyone?” I asked Miss Pasty. “Everyone, even the firemen.” “The firemen? Hmmm….kinky…” Miss Pasty laughed, “Even my mother.” “Oh no, what did she say?” “She told Monica, that it was none of Monica’s business and it wasn’t her business either. She thinks you’re a good boy. She likes you.”

It was good to have someone in my corner.

I found out that Little Willy told Monica that he was going to kick me out and have her move in. And apparently Monica didn’t think Little Willy was acting fast enough so she decided to speed things up and attempt to slander me.

It didn’t work.

Monica being a German tourist figured that these Americans with their meat eating ways would be so disgusted that I’d be run out to the windmill like the Frankenstein monster chased by villagers.

Little Willy started playing both sides against the other. I was working at a video store and giving video rentals away to various friends and bartenders I knew, and also DJ-ing at McSwells. I was a DJ, ID checker, doorman, and bar back sometimes on consecutive nights.

There were records usually piled up by the stereo system that Little Willy and I shared. 2 Live Crew had a smash hit called ‘Me So Horny’. A decent song, usually guaranteed a laugh from me and my friends.

The B side to ‘Me So Horny’ was an aptly named song called ‘Get the fuck out of my House Bitch’. I left it lying around so Monica would see it.

She did.

One night while I was in my room, there was a knock on the door. It was Monica. Her German accent furious, eyes full of rage, she started screaming at me about how I was trying to seduce Little Willy.

“Leaving a record called ‘I am so horny’ around the apartment. Don’t take my man!” I laughed which enraged her even more.

“John, Little Willy said you were leaving. When will you leave?” “Leave? Monica, I ain’t going anywhere! And it’s not ‘I am so horny’ and I’m not horny for Little Willy. He’s not my type. I like MEN. Not skinny little toothpicks that can’t stand up straight.”

“Well he said…” Monica continued. “I don’t care what he said. And it’s the flip side you bitch. It’s called ‘Get the Fuck Out of my House Bitch.’

You should play it sometimes. It should have instructions on what to do.” She yelled. I yelled louder. Little Willy hid in his room.

It ended with me screaming, “Get the hell out of here you hag!”

Blue Jay Way

Well I am actually doing something today. Visiting Greg Stevens office for a few hours then meeting up with Bill and some of his compadres, heading off to see the Yankees/Blue Jays tonight. So since I won’t be back until late, here is part 2 of what I wrote in 2002 about 1991.

It seemed like a great deal. A nice apartment, close to the city, good neighborhood, and a decent room mate. I would find out later that 3 out of 4 wasn’t bad, but wasn’t entirely good either.

I was living in Lodi with my father who I hadn’t been getting along with for about 20 years. I moved in with him despite everyone’s warnings. I had seen a side of him that I had never seen before.

He was grieving.

Quite sad, his wife, my mother decided to leave her mortal coil on Mother’s Day. Talk about making a statement. May 12 was a day of infamy for me and my siblings. So having seen a side of him that I had never seen before, I moved in with him into the house I grew up and threw up in.

It was hell. Everyone was right. It was a mistake. I started drinking a lot and at night when I was hiding in my brother’s room where I slept fitfully at night. One night I had to pee but I didn’t want to risk waking up the old man who slept across from the bathroom.

So I did what anybody would do in a similar situation. I opened up the window and pissed down the side of the house. It seemed to be the only peaceful solution.

After battles and wars, I told my father I was moving out. Little Willy had parked his dilap-a-van outside and I warned him to stay away from the house I’ll bring my stuff outside to the van. Dad was watching me like the crotchety old hawk he was.

Annemarie, my sister was there at the time, calming me down and acting like a buffer between 2 grown men who couldn’t stand each other. Little Willy and I got all my stuff down to Weehawken.

Annemarie was sad to see the relationship die between my father and I but I was glad to see a toe tag on the body of the relationship.

It was quite pathetic when I moved. I didn’t have a bed; I had a sleeping bag lent to me by Raul the owner of the video store and a strip of foam rubber padding that I was using as a mattress of sorts.

My cat Zed was able to return from exile. I brought him with me to Lodi and he basically lived in the basement until my father almost tripped on the stairs one day and swore that Zed was trying to kill him.

I then brought Zed to Hoboken where he lived in the basement of the video store, which was actually the storage room rented in a basement 2 doors down. Poor Zed felt abandoned but now I was able to put a bona fide roof over his head.

Little Willy and I seemed to get along. I didn’t know then that he told Monica his traveling companion that he was going to kick me out and the two of them would live in quasi-Aztec bliss forever and ever.

Little Willy told me after a month or two that Miss Pasty and Mr. Derf were quite upset with me and wanted me out. I didn’t understand it.

There were one or two incidents where a chair over laden with coats crashed one late night hang out, but it was taken care of.

Sure there would be an adjustment to the fact that instead of one old man who couldn’t walk much living above them was now two men who can walk with relative ease taking his place. I asked Little Willy and he was vague, saying he didn’t know what was going on but I had to go.

Panic stricken and faced with no options, I was leaving the apartment one night when I saw Miss Pasty and Mr. Derf. I asked them I pleaded with them. “I’m so sorry. What have I done? Why do you want me to go? I have nowhere else to go. What can I do to change your mind?”

They didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. All they wanted to do was to go to dinner next door at their parent’s apartment. My eyes were tearing up. It’s been said I can cry at the drop of a hat, and a major sombrero had hit the floor.

I Need to Know

OK, slept good last night, didn’t have a headache when I woke up. Carefully positioned the fans so they weren’t blowing directly on me.

Didn’t fall asleep that easily though. I keep ignoring my own advice, which is- if you can’t fall asleep, get out of bed. Don’t just lay there tossing and turning. Yet tossing and turning is what I do.

Last night was definitely nothing special. I watched some of the smarmy Bill Maher, watched some of O & RM, watched the news and watched the Simpsons. That’s about it.

My Bill was feeling better with regards to his leg so that was good. I woke up this morning and got myself together, headed out to the bus.

Mostly uneventful, the usual carbon based life forms exhaling CO2. Listened to The Fireman on the walk across town.

Nice morning walk. Got to the office, things were in disarray which is how things usually are when I’m out. But this disarray was from the intern Viveka.

Yes, as I expected they’re working her to the bone. In at 10AM out around 9PM if she’s lucky. Patriarchal system. She doesn’t complain.

I doubt that she’s getting paid a decent wage since she told me she was looking to get a retail job on weekends. She’s 20 something so she’ll have the stamina for that.

7 days of work. Not much of a social life though, but she feels she doesn’t have one now.

Viveka has been taking over my job so when I came to work today, there was very little for me to do which makes me think that the collection of chocolate mousse cakes will be ending soon enough.

That doesn’t make me happy, but I should have known that it wasn’t going to last too long anyhow. I was annoyed by this and a little bit depressed.

Enough so that I almost left 2 hours after coming in. I shouldn’t have been surprised since I’ve been showing her the different tasks that I have been doing for the past years. But obviously I didn’t think the change would be so soon.

I’m not giving up yet, and I’ll use the suggestion that my sister had at the Paul McCartney concert. Stay there until they ask you to move.

At least I should get some hamburger deluxe & a shake for the 10 hours I put in this week so far, and maybe for 5 more hours tomorrow.

Tonight I may head into Weehawken. There’s a band called the Revelators who I downloaded a few months ago. R&B group playing 1960’s-70’s type of soul music.

Just debating whether or not to ride my bike or walk or even take the light rail. I might just take the light rail there and walk home. It’s my only plan for the night.

Still have some time to make up my mind.

Just had a nice pesto/pasta/chicken dinner. Followed my sister’s advice (again) and cooked the chicken yesterday so all I have to do is reheat it in the sauce. Why didn’t I think of that before?

Ain’t No Sunshine

Using the old school Open Office docs which is what I used to use daily. Then it wouldn’t behave like I wanted it to, and in a fit of artistic pique I moved over to Google docs. But here I am using this again. It just seemed so forlorn on my desktop, pleading for me to use it, see if there’s a spark, rekindle whatever it was that we used to have.

Well so far so good. I’m trying to clean up the desktop which has many things on it, effectively grabbing a lot of memory. So I’m moving things to disc to free up some space as well as deleting a whole bunch of stuff I haven’t used in a while, if ever.

Last night I met up with Bill and his friend Fred and his lady friend Lila. We met in front of the movie theater and caught the 8:15 showing of The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3. It’s a remake of the classic 1970’s movie starring Walter Matthau, Robert Shaw and Martin Balsam.

Not a very good remake.

For some reason it got some good reviews but I couldn’t see why. I was hoping to see John Travolta meet his fate the same way that Robert Shaw met his. Really it was THE main reason.

No Travolta fan here and his performance as Edna Turnblad in Hairspray: the Musical alienated me further from the former Boy in the Plastic Bubble.

The audience applauded but trainspotters like Bill and myself wondered how the action can go from 33rd Street to the Waldorf Astoria at 49th Street. A car chase scene that involves a cop car going off the overpass at Tudor City was bewildering.

I used to eat lunch in Tudor City years and years ago and it has not changed one bit, except for the flying, crashing cars. So many plot holes you could drive a subway car through them.

Despite all that it was a brilliant night to be out and about. Just wandering around Chelsea, so many interesting monsters.

I remember when people were considered tough to get tattoos, nowadays everyone and their Aunt Ditty has one. And such ornate designs, that you know will just get better looking as they age.

Much like the brawny former Marines that were in the VFW with my father. Those dark aqua blue splotches on their arms really told a story. What that story might have been I couldn’t tell you and neither could the splotches.

Cheers to those hardy souls with their entire arms covered in ink. I’m not putting tattoos mind you. Just the ones who go overboard.

Today was a gray overcast day. I decided to take a chance and make an attempt at my big ride up to the George Washington Bridge and over into Manhattan. As I stretched before riding the sun came out for a moment and I decided I was doing the right thing.

I rode over to the light rail station at Ninth Street and got on the elevator to Congress Street. As I rode over to Palisades Avenue the clouds were foreboding. Still I pedaled on up to Shippen Street where I stopped and thought for a while.

Shippen would get me back to Hoboken, but did I want to do that? The clouds were getting darker and I decided to ride down Hackensack Plank Road, towards Hoboken. But I didn’t feel like going back home so I rode around Weehawken on the waterfront. No one was around except for maybe 3 joggers.

It really sucks that New Jersey can’t get it together to create the river walk that they’ve been talking about for years, from Bayonne to Fort Lee.

If that was ever completed, or even started in some spots I would be doing that ride a lot more often. Manhattan has an excellent bike path. A little dodgy is some areas but nothing too bad.

But New Jersey? Fuggedaboutit.

Lame lame lame.

Bill figured out last night that I am taking him to see Paul McCartney at the new Mets Stadium. When we were watching TV at home after the dreadful movie, a commercial came up for the Macca concerts in July.

I think I showed too much restraint with my interest in the concerts. ‘Oh really? Interesting.’ Bill saw right through it, my showing of enthusiasm. It was the date that gave it away anyhow.

Weehawken Tree, Hudson River Sky

Weehawken Tree, Hudson River Sky

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A view of Hoboken from Weehawken that I had never seen before

A view of Hoboken from Weehawken that I had never seen before

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Stairway to Heaven

OK, so I only stretched before cycling yesterday, not so much afterwards but climbing 5 flights of stairs makes for some stretching doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? I was pretty tired though. Casey Chasm called while I was showering. He and the missus were going to Margarita’s for dinner but I was too tired to make it.

Plus I had food here that I had bought that needed to be cooked and eaten before it all started to go bad.

I was content with a few hot dogs last night and I settled in and watched Tennessee Williams ‘Suddenly Last Summer’ starring Maggie Smith, Natasha Richardson and Rob Lowe. It was a BBC production from the 1990’s I believe.

I had it in my Netflix queue, added it when I was mourning Natasha Richardson’s untimely death.

It was good, Maggie Smith and Natasha Richardson were excellent. Rob Lowe was passable as Dr. Sugar. No flashbacks like in the Joseph Mankewicz version with Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. I suspect Tennessee would have been happy with this classy version.

After that I forget what I watched. I do have A Matter of Life and Death by Michael Powell on DVD via Netflix and threw that in the player but I wanted Bill to see it too and since he was doing a reading at the Theater for the New City last night I decided to hold off. I was a zombie anyhow and staying awake to watch the whole thing would have been a bit of a chore.

I did toy with the idea of a trip to the supermarket but it looked like it was about to start pouring any minute. By the time I figured out that it wasn’t going to rain it was too late, the supermarket was closed.

Asleep in bed by midnight. Bill was with his theater friends and didn’t get home until 3:00 in the morning.

I woke up around 8:00 this morning, glad not to have to go to work again. I roused myself from bed and shuffled about doing those morning things that I do most mornings when I don’t have to work.

Still plenty of parking spaces in Hoboken and it should be like this until Labor Day so come on down to Hoboken on weekends and park wherever you damn well please. I got some bagels for myself as well as Julio & Stine.

Donuts for Bill and the newspapers which weren’t as depressing as yesterday. Or maybe they were as depressing as yesterday but my outlook had improved so the stories didn’t affect me as much.

I planned to take a walk around Hoboken early this afternoon when Bill had awoken. He wanted to come but only after the Lawn hors d’œuvre SUV episode had finished. Oddly enough it was an episode that neither of us had seen before, from the early years with Olivia having a short spiky haircut.

The other night was a good one with Alan Dale who plays Charles Widmore on Lost as well as the late Meade patriarch on Ugly Betty. This time he played a judge who’s young son was murdered years before. A few twists that were too convoluted to write about here, but it was one of the best episodes of Lawn hors d’œuvre SUV that I had seen in a while. Bill missed it since he was tired and went to bed before it was broadcast.

So this afternoon after Lawn hors d’œuvre SUV we headed out. I arranged to meet Mr & Mrs Chasm outside their building and the four of us walked up to 14th street and proceeded to walk down the riverside, enjoying each others company as well as the sunshine and a lot of sunbathers. I applied sunblock again and I was quite glad that I did.

We walked over to Pier A and found a bench where we sat for an hour in the shade chatting each other up. We parted ways, Bill and I off to CVS and the Mr & Mrs off to wherever it was they were headed off to.

Bill and I ran into Roger Johansen and his wife Dina. on Washington Street. Always good to see Roger, he’s a prince. It was also the first time I had met Dina and she seemed really nice. Bill and I egged her on to get her MBA and perhaps she heeded our advice, that having an MBA would be a leg up in the search for a good job.

He invited us to his new place in Weehawken which is near his old place. He always had the best houses. I told him that Bill and I would love to visit, all he needed to do is let us know when.

Bill and I came home. He cooked for himself, I napped. Nothing like an afternoon nap. More people should do it. We can call them Siestas. I think it would catch on.

As I drifted off to sleep I remembered a nap that I took about 35 years ago in Framingham MA. Then I thought it odd that I was thinking about a nap from so long ago. It was a comfortable nap back then and I slept wearing my glasses. Then I drifted off to sleep in this day and age.

Woke up made dinner and now Bill naps.

I told him that when I wake him up at 9:00 we’re watching A Matter of Life & Death starring David Niven and Kim Hunter. It used to be titled Stairway to Heaven in this country, now it’s back to it’s original title.

Here’s some snappy snaps from this afternoon.

Last night before the storm. Natural light

Last night before the storm. Natural light

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Free toy

Free toy

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Fishing in Hoboken

Fishing in Hoboken

Big Yellow Taxi

Last night nothing special once again, though seeing Julio and Stine and Alexander was special indeed. After that it was all pretty boring. I edited the titles of tracks on some cd’s that Annemarie sent me last year. That was a painstaking labor of love, trying to figure out what was what since they all couldn’t be by Benny Goodman.

I watched Carole King who is a nice Jewish lady from Brooklyn. Oy. She’s a love that one. Then it was The Who live in London 1977. The concert where they got two clips for the movie, The Kids Are Alright- Baba O’Reilly and Won’t Get Fooled Again.

The rest of the show was ok. When they started doing Eddie Cochran’s Summertime Blues (which for some reason people think the Who’s version is great, I think it’s leaden and plodding) I threw in a DVD of The Specials called Too Much Too Young. A nice collection of video clips and some live footage but over all the narration was dreadful. Flat boring and monotonous.

It was like the filmmaker/Narrator Brian Zabawski was reading something off wikipedia and didn’t read the words. Properly. Gets an E for Effort though, especially since I never went about making a Specials DVD of my own.

After that some SNL repeat with Tina Fey then off to bed for me. Bill was at his mother’s so I had the big ass bed all for my big ass. Slept really well, woke up went out, got papers and bagels. After breakfast I sat by the computer and was reading the Daily News, the Voice of the People section, also known as the Letters to the Editor.

I usually enjoy it and as I read I noticed a letter from Hoboken, with a name that was awfully familiar. What are the odds, I thought, of someone having the exact same name as me? Then I realized that I had sent a letter to the editor courtesy of MoveOn.org the other day and today they published it. Ha!

Not the first time the Daily News published a letter of mine. I think this was the third time. They never publish my letters regarding cars running red lights though. The New York Post also published a letter a few years ago about the smoking ban in bars, which if I recall was also published in the Daily News. I thought it was pretty funny. Bill was thrilled when I texted him about it.

cut n’ paste
http://www.nydailynews.com/opinions/letters/index.html

Today was a beautiful day especially after the deluge of yesterday. I got some new bike shorts and gloves the other day and it was a nice enough day to take a spin around Hoboken. Rode up to 16th Street and looked around. Summer vacation is over for most if not all residents of Hoboken since there was no parking anywhere.

Rode down Sinatra Drive on the Hudson River and forgot all about the Italian feast. Today’s the last day. Procession through town, big heavy of the Madonna, fireworks and feast bombs. I missed all that. Apparently they stopped right in front of my building.

I rode past my old apartments in Hoboken. 1st Street and Park avenue, the mosquito infested illegal loft where I lasted about a month after donating a gallon of blood to the mosquitoes, leaving my loft mates high and dry but not in the lurch since I found 2 other people (Doug and Kate) to take my space.

1st and Park. It DID NOT look like this in 1984.

Then I rode by 201 Madison Street which was my first ‘real’ apartment. Lived with Jet for a while. I think I was there for about 2 years, moving out when the rent hit the outrageous rate of $500.00.
201 Madison

Back view- top 2 windows on right. My kitchen

From there I went to 1124 Willow Ave. The basement apartment. Had a few wild parties there and it was also the party center after McSwells closed at night sometimes. I lived there with Jimmy Lee and then eventually Barbara Granite who turned out to be a little off in the head. I lived there from 1986-1989 or so. It was a hovel. Thought I would live there forever, though I think that with most every place I move to.


Never had a door with a lock on it then….nor bars on the windows

But Barbara Granite moved out and I couldn’t find a roommate so I moved in with Kevin Craughn on Madison Street, across from where I originally lived. I don’t remember too much, it was 1990. That was a hovel too, only on the top floor. Kevin and I barely got along but it ended on a good note relatively speaking.
216 Madison Street

Definitely DID NOT look like his then

I moved out of there and into 710 Jefferson which was a nightmare. I had to be interviewed by the landlord in order to be a roommate. Barry’s roommate actually. He was on tour somewhere when I moved in and I had very little furniture, sleeping on a piece of foam.
710 Jefferson Street

the building in the middle

All the while Zed had been with me through most of these apartments, except for the loft. He had the run of the place most times, except when I lived with Kevin. Kevin’s cats intimidated Zed so much that he rarely came out from under my dresser for most of the year. Then when I lived at Barry’s place, Zed peed on his futon which Barry brought up soon after my mother’s funeral. I apologized but I obviously had other more important things in my life at that time.

I didn’t like living in that building. The landlady and her family were on the first two floors of the building and always kept an eye open on who was coming in and out through the door being slightly open on their apartments. After that I moved back to Lodi to live with my father for a few months despite a lot of people warning me not to.
Jane Street, last house on the right

From there it was to Weehawken with William where we had a love/hate relationship for 11 years. Then back to Hoboken where I am at now. Zed didn’t make it to Hoboken, he passed away when I was living in Weehawken. I buried him in the backyard there, which has probably been torn up and paved over.

And I didn’t miss the procession of the Italians and the Madonna. They just passed by.

Sister Golden Hair

Ugh, the day after St. Patrick’s Day. Not hungover, just a little buzzed last night, three pints only, no more no less. Slept really well after laboring with the editing of photos last night. Lately I’ve been having dreams that seem to resolve themselves by the time I wake up, though this morning’s dream seemed to take place on a deserted island ala Lost, in a Winnebago that was being shot at. That was where I woke up. I didn’t seem to be disturbed by being shot at in the dream, oddly enough.

Read the New Yorker on the way in and everything seemed to be fine, until I returned from an errand that took about an hour, and when I got back and sat down, I was exhausted. Eventually I rallied and got through the afternoon but it wasn’t easy. Yesterday was a good day, time spent in the love bubble with Bill. The love bubble is when Bill and I are somewhere in public, surrounded by people and all we feel is affection for each other. I doesn’t happen too often lately, both of us need to be in the same space, both mentally and physically and things being the way they are lately makes it difficult. I thanked Bill for that when I got back to Hoboken and waited for Corinne.

Got word from Chaz about our former neighbors in Weehawken. Three sisters, raising a boy and a girl. They were nice, thought our landlords were crazy. Never really hung out with the neighbors, just a friendly hello when we would pass each other. Chaz told me the youngest, the boy named TJ had died in a balcony accident somewhere. That was a shock. He must have been maybe 20 years old. I couldn’t find any information about what happened, if it happened. If it did happen I’m sure they’re devastated. I remember one time after a major blizzard, I was walking past a snowbank when I heard a cry and a scream. TJ was stuck on a snow drift, being pudgy, and his friends all deserted him. I walked over and dug him out and made sure he was alright before he ran back home. That’s what I’ll remember about TJ. A pudgy kid stuck in a snowbank.

In my search for information regarding TJ I googled Jane Street Weehawken. What came up was an apartment listing for my old apartment that I shared with William for 11 years. In those 11 years, the rent never went above $500, which we split. He had 2 rooms, I had 2 rooms ( a bit smaller than his though) separated by a room, with a shared kitchen and bath. It was great, and William was a great decorator, but his decorating sometimes got out of hand. I’d leave in the morning and comeback from work in the evening to find rooms painted a different color, furniture moved around. Sometimes the rent would go up, sometimes it would go down. Now the same apartment is $2200.

Crazy.

They took out the garden in the backyard, and I don’t know what else they did in the apartment, but man that was an eye opener. I split that scene after 11 years with William, 9 of those years silently resenting each other, hoping the other one would move out first. I surrendered when Julio found this apartment in Hoboken. No Pattie and Fred Kleinke banning Bill from the apartment more than 2 nights a week, though lately Bill’s only been here 2 nights a week.

I admit I lucked out with the timing of my moving out, William and Chaz and Kathe had to abandon their apartments about 6 months later when Pattie and Fred decided to sell the house and promised to deliver it empty, not offering William and Chaz a chance to buy it from them. Resentment all around. Even from me though I was already gone. What’s done is done and Jane Street, that magical time, and it wasn’t all bad, is history.