Other People’s Notes & Dreams

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Art of Noise, Peter Gunn is playing, and I am transported back to when I was a Friday night barback at Maxwell’s with Declan and Martha. Over 40 years ago. I remember Declan digging the Art of Noise cover featuring Duane Eddy. Those were happy, innocent days. I barbacked for about a year; eventually, my back was telling me it was time to stop.

The last time I saw Christine Kincaid was when I barbacked. She grew up down Riverview Avenue from me. Her father had quite a handsome Marlboro man friend who I could not stop looking at growing up. How I wanted to make love to him, me being 14 and him being in his 30s.

Christine loved Peter Frampton and saw him at Madison Square Garden the night before I did. She also saw the Sgt Pepper movie, which I still have never gotten around to. I have to admit I was embarrassed to be merely washing glasses and was stocking beers and was slightly relieved when she left with who I guessed was her boyfriend. Christine died shortly thereafter from ovarian cancer, I believe.

I enjoyed working with Declan and Martha and though it didn’t start there, my predilection for putting white powder up my nose, snowballed at that time. I had a crush on Martha. So beautiful and strong it seemed to me. I loved it when a customer would ask for a Coors beer, and Martha would reply that they do not serve fascist beer there.

As I said, my barback time was limited. I eventually worked more in the backroom as a DJ and a doorman. My brother Frank asked both Steve and Mary Fallon to keep an eye on me so that I wouldn’t misbehave or get into trouble. Little did he know…

My first night working at Maxwell’s, Mary Fallon sliced open her hand when cutting open a roll from Marie’s Bakery. That was my introduction. Eventually I became part of the family, collapsing in a heap after the bands had packed up and customers thrown onto the street. I was part of two separate sections, the front room and the back room. 40 years ago…

So Mike called me up yesterday. He was not around this weekend due to his new parole officer telling him to remain where he was. We texted and talked on the phone instead. Yesterday he called me after waking up from a nap. He was near tears after a dream that he had.

In the dream it was Mike and me and someone that wasn’t Bill. The other guy was black. In the dream I started singing angrily and fully ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ by Foreigner. According to Mike, a woman started shouting I was going viral, a man told me he understood where I was coming from.

The viral woman was maternal and gave me a hug only a mother could give. I spent a few years at Right Track Recording with the gold record of Foreigner for I Want to Know What Love Is behind me. I knew it was there, but I only saw it when the day started. I rarely turned around to look at the wall. Now the disc, the wall, and Right Track Recording are gone.

Meanwhile at the fruit stand, with Marcus’ departure, a void is created. It’s odd him not being here. Jimmy Chile has been telling me tales out of school, how this one needs to be watched and not to trust that one while I am at it.

I’ve been here for a little over a year at the fruit stand. I am comfortable and perhaps I have forgotten that it can all be taken away from me in the blink of an eye. It seems a few of us received notes from Mark as he did his Irish Exit. I don’t know what other people’s notes have said and I choose to read Mark’s note to me as encouraging and a heads up of sorts.

Au Revoir Marcus

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It is the first Friday in August, and it’s friggin’ hot outside. More humid than anything, really. Not much in the way of breezes. On Thursday night, I stop by the cigar shop in Hoboken and get a nice mid-sized cigar for a lunchtime smoke. I got a Jaime Garcia, nice size, good cigar.

When I went outside to get my lunch, I found my spot filled with construction equipment so I would not be sitting and puffing away as I planned. I kept the Jaime Garcia in my shirt pocket and opted for the small Romeo and Julietta that I generally enjoy when on my lunch break. A rethink was required.

When I was walking back from getting my Halal food, I passed a building that is under some sort of construction or renovation. I figured that would do. I finished my Halal food. The guys in the truck generally hook me up, but it was a bit boring today.

Just not getting the same thrill I had gotten in the past. It was satisfactory and filling but bland overall. Not their fault at all. Just tired taste buds on my tongue.

Bill and I watched the newest episode of Ted Lasso. He’s back with some of the same characters. The episode took place in Ted’s hometown, with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins flying over to see if Ted would go back to Richmond and coach the women’s football team.

We sort of know how it will turn out but they’re releasing the episodes one at a time rather than making everything available for streaming all at once. Last night we watched the last 2 episodes of the third season. Of course we’d seen them before, a few times, but it really is such a good, heartwarming show we really didn’t mind.

So I sat on the steps next to a sign that said ‘Rat Poison’ was in the area of the building undergoing renovation. A few people smiled as they walked by, I guessed the smell of the cigar was not as off-putting as I thought it would be. Most of the time all you can smell on the streets is weed, and it doesn’t seem to be a natural smell of weed, but rather something artificial.

As I sat, Marcus strolled by with his Chick Fillet in a bag. Today is his last day and he really hasn’t said much to me at all. I suppose that’s how it will be. His leaving won’t be a bang, but a whimper. He walked by, looking either straight ahead or looking ahead, and in any event did not see me or if he did, he didn’t have anything to say to me.

Now Marcus has left the fruit stand, having handed in his gloves and fruit-picking equipment. There was no face to face goodbye but he left a note, which was something in itself. He urged me to work with the team, though I thought I was doing that.

Perhaps I need to be more gregarious? I don’t know. He mentioned that there were a lot of personalities, but I should just try and no one wants me to fail. He says I have a knowledge and a sense of people that the team doesn’t know about and Marcus would like me to show it. That was nice, wasn’t it? Was it?

I discussed this with Bill and it was a good talk. I explained that I work by myself, alone for 90% of the time. It’s a fact. Marcus didn’t seem to realize that. He never saw me at the major fruit stand, working alongside Kimberly, Janis and Violet, not to mention Yancy.

Bill reminded me that Marcus is more than half my age and is still growing, as am I.