Back at the fruit stand. The allergy attack lessened greatly around 8:30 last night, and I was able to sit with the window open next to me. The temperature dropped a bit, so that may have been the deciding factor.

I sit at the fruit stand listening to a playlist of the dB’s first 2 albums, Stands for Decibels and Repercussion. I do love these records, such great songs, and laden with memories. My dear friend Rita gave me Repercussion as a gift over 40 years ago, and I bought Stands for Decibels on my own. I used to be amusing with my imitation of Chris Stamey’s singing style, and I can still do it somewhat, but years of smoking have decreased my skill, and “a possible emphasis on emphysema has taken its toll,” he joked.

Years ago, I ran into Peter Holsapple on the PATH train as he was headed to work at a record store at 23rd and 3rd called Music Maze. I regarded Peter Holsapple as a rock star, though I did not know Peter was struggling with the bottle. I do not think he would recall meeting me or the discussions we would have at Music Maze. Drew Wheeler was a friend of Peter’s and a rock & roll writer.

I saw Peter Holsapple a few times when the dB’s were in limbo, at Folk City mainly, where Peter sang ‘Elvis, what happened?’ I was smitten, and most of my friends were on board with the North Carolina rock & rollers.

I also saw Chris Stamey a number of times, much more than I saw Peter Holsapple. One evening springs to mind, it must’ve been around the holidays of 1986. My friend Martha Keavney came over to my apartment with mushrooms, which we devoured. While waiting for the kick to occur, my brother, Frank, called, telling me of his fight with our parents. It was not good, and when the phone call ended, the mushrooms started to take off, and it promised to be a not-so-good situation.

I gave Martha some money to run down the block and get a bottle of Absolut, knowing that alcohol could counteract a bad psychedelic experience. It did the job, and Martha and I wound up at Maxwell’s for a holiday party featuring Chris Stamey, who was god-like that night due to the mushrooms and my staring at the Christmas tree for most of the night. There were a lot of mushrooms going around Maxwell’s during that time.

My dear friend Jane played with Stamey a number of times, and I would go to see Jane rather than go to see Stamey. The last time I saw Jane with Stamey, a mutual friend mentioned that she wondered if Chris Stamey was on the spectrum. It could explain quite a bit.

There was the one I called the DNA Cup previously. I found him to be a pain in the ass. Another mutual friend listened as I wondered what his problem was, so grouchy all the time. The mutual friend remarked that maybe DNA Cup was homophobic. I mentioned this to another mutual friend who, in turn, told DNA Cup, who phoned me up quite irate, explaining he has many homosexual friends.

There was an attempt in the early 1980s, when my brother Frank and I went to the Peppermint Lounge on 45th Street to see the dB’s. Earlier that day, I had bought some sensimillia and was told by the Rasta not to smoke it like it was regular weed; it was quite potent. I, being me, did not heed the Rasta advice and smoked it as I usually did, or do.

By the time Frank and I were at the Peppermint Lounge, I was waylaid by a splitting headache and could only sit by the bar with my head in my hands. I never did see the dB’s that night. Years later, a few decades later, actually, I did see the dB’s live in Hoboken at the Art & Music Festival. There they were, the songs were great, but they had zero stage presence. All that time for nothing.

But here I am, years later, listening to their first 2 albums, which are still classic.