Back At It

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Back at it. May 11, 2026, a Monday. Sleep was not easy last night. Went to bed at a decent hour, before 11 PM, and woke up around 1:30 after thinking I had slept longer than 2 and a half hours. After that, it was waking up every now and then once again, thinking it was time to get up. A full night of uninterrupted sleep would have been nice, but it was not to be.

Bill had gone to bed a little after 10 PM. I pushed him in the direction of the bedroom, telling him I needed to get to sleep and have my prep work to do. We had watched The Diplomat on Netflix, which we both enjoyed very much. Still have a few episodes to watch, and we will do just that. Tonight, it will probably be catching up on Jeopardy as well as John Oliver.

Bill came home Saturday night and Sunday morning. I stumbled across him getting up to empty my bladder around 2:30 AM, and Bill was on the couch watching whatever it was that he was watching. I shuffled by to & fro. Saturday was mostly a solo. A trip to the big supermarket and I was back a little after noon. And that was it. I pretty much stayed indoors.

Mike was with his beloved, and Bill was driving some sports team around upstate New York. Annemarie is in Japan, so there was not even a 3:00 PM phone call as we’ve been doing since the twentieth century. I think I watched some Beatles docs. Familiar and entertaining, and good background noise.

Sunday started as it usually does, with me getting up around 9:00 AM. I turn on the clock radio to hear a segment of Breakfast with the Beatles. All it takes is a minute to listen to what is being played. I did not remember what it was that played when I was getting out of bed.

The coffee was made by me the day before, and I set about having coffee and watching Jane Pauley on CBS Sunday Morning, the only concession to CBS that passes muster these days. That started in 2019 when Bill and I went to his friend Pershing’s barbecue in Pennsylvania. We stayed in a motel and, waking up, turned on CBS Sunday Morning. Now it’s part of our Sunday morning routine, or at least my Sunday morning routine.

After breakfast, I eventually got myself ready, the plan being a trip to Coles Street in Jersey City, where Mike and his beloved were going to be, shooting vids and pics. I told Bill what I was doing and offered him the chance to accompany me and first he was wishy washy, eventually deciding he wanted to be with me and so would join me.

We took a Lyft to Coles Street and met up with Mike and his beloved, Wade. It was the first time Bill and I met Wade, though I had spoken with him a few times on the phone in the past. Bill and Wade settled into a conversation that only drivers could have, Bill being a bus driver and Wade driving trucks, while Mike and I set about taking photos and videos.

After about 2 hours of that, we parted ways, Bill and I walking back to Hoboken, leaving Mile and Wade to their own devices.

Now I am home on Monday evening. Bill is at an actors’ meeting, and Mike is incommunicado. Not much else to report. Tomorrow promises more of the same and then all day Wednesday at the big fruit stand. The usual apprehension is here, and I will carry that with me. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, and I hope to take that nervous energy and apply it to my advantage.

Hard Luck Stories

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Friday once more. Trains were not crowded. Streets are not crowded. Limited people at the fruit stand. Mike is at my crib, Bill is driving someone somewhere, though it’s usually me that he is driving crazy. Mike paid me back the other day for the hybrid bed I ordered on his behalf from that maga company. It is supposed to be delivered today.

And today his beloved is supposed to fly in, leaving on Monday. I may or may not finally meet the beloved this weekend. Mike calls me and Bill Dad, and in turn we call him son. And now the beloved calls me Dad and I call him son in law. It is a strange situation, but ultimately harmless.

I do hope the hybrid bed is delivered today, though I know that sometimes these things can go awry. I slept well despite an adjustment to my routine. And a strange dream was had towards the end of my sleeping.

I was in my apartment talking to Julio who had pulled out Kevin Croughn who said he was alive and well after all. That was a surprise but I was more taken aback by Kevin’s humility, which was something that was rarely shown.

The morning creeps along. I was hesitant to write crawls aling so I opted for something else. Mike and I watched Nobody 2, the sequel to Nobody with Bob Odenkirk and Connie Nielsen. Over the top violent, but funny nonetheless.

Last night, Mike asked about Star Wars. He missed the boat on that one, born too late for the first two movies, and the third one was his introduction, but he was not interested.

I did know there was a documentary about George Lucas and the difficulty of bringing Star Wars to life and so for an hour and a half we watched it, though I was the one who was watching mainly. Midway through, Bill returned and Mike went and helped with the luggage which turned out to be a backpack since Bill left his other stuff at the garage where he was setting off from this morning, before I had even gotten out of bed.

And Bill was off to bed within an hour of returning. Mike sat on the couch looking at the phone and I readied myself for bed before 10:30 PM. It’s not even 12 hours later and it feels like the day is an hour behind where it should actually be.

Perhaps it will catch up after lunch. In any event I would be staring down the clock with mere hours to go. It loks like a beautiful day today and that would make for an enjoyable lunch. I have a Camacho cigar which was gifted to me and even though I am not a fan of Camacho, the last one I smoked was maybe 14 years ago, I will smoke this one on my lunch break.

It is now 10:00 AM and awfully quiet. What is that about?

154 is an album by Wire. My brother Frank gave it to me. I liked it a lot, though for the longest time I only played side one. I remember going to see the movie, Neighbors and meeting Stan Bogdansky for the first time. He was friends with Dave Bell somehow.

Stan was impressed with my cassette of 154. That meant something to me back then. 154 pops up every now and then in my life. This morning it turned up showing the floors the elevators were on at the fruit stand. I

’ve been thinking of Stan Bogdansky lately, having read an article on Cocteau Twins in Mojo magazine. The Cocteaus were friends of Stan. 154 was also an album that helped build my friendship with Kevin Wagner. I loaned him a cassette that, to Kevin’s ears, reminded him of Pink Floyd.

I met Wire a few times and interviewed them, which did not go well. Never meet your heroes they say, and it was somewhat true that adage. I was out of my league and they tolerated me to a question of degree. I probably did not get enough sleep the night before. I did record one of their shows at Maxwell’s on VHS but the videotape is lost to the ages. Perhaps left on Jane Street in the kingdon of the Kleinke.