1970’s soul music. I loved it. Kool and the Gang, George McRae, Hues Corporation, real fun early disco stuff. I used to listen to Music Radio 77 WABC in the seventies. Music from then conjures up strong memories for me. For example, listening to ‘Rock The Boat’ by the Hues Corporation reminds me of swimming in a pool in someone’s backyard in Saddle Brook.

On Sunday afternoons after the softball game, various people from the Saddle Brook VFW would wind up in the backyard of Bill and Eileen Hayes. This basically meant that the usual denizens of the dank cellar of Post 3484 would be drinking and eating outside. And drinking quite a bit. I’d either be playing with the neighborhood kids or swimming in the pool, creating whirlpools as the sun would set.

Al Green I remember going on a paper drive with more members of the VFW. That was a noble effort and sober as far as I know, but knowing what I do now, someone was probably nipping at the bottle.

Music Radio 77 would even turn up on some people’s home phone. I grew up about a mile from a very powerful transmitting tower. Summertime radio I guess is always magical when you’re growing up. And if you’re as interested in music as much as I am, it’s consuming. I find myself occasionally going online to a website that has the chart positions of singles going as far back as 45 years. February 2. 1972 had the top single of the week for ‘Knock Three Times’ by Dawn.

Tony Orlando hadn’t made a name for himself yet. Elton was number ten with ‘Your Song’. 1971 was also the year of ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’. I saw the play the following year. WABC was playing various cuts from that album.

I didn’t really start noticing music and buying my own singles until a year later. One of the first singles I ever bought was ‘You’re So Vain’ by Carly Simon. I met her about ten years ago and I may have let that slip, which made her feel old. She still had no problem bumming cigarettes from me, telling me how bad they are for me.

She actually looks way better than she photographs.

Another of my early singles was ‘Jet’ by Paul McCartney and Wings, and ‘Clair’ by Gilbert O’Sullivan, which my brother, Frank needles me about to this day.

I look back at the charts from the sixties and the mix of songs and genres is astonishing.
Motown, The British Invasion, The Singing Nun and Dean Martin. Something for everyone, I guess because there was nowhere else to go.

I don’t want to sound like an old fart so I won’t pass comment on today’s stuff. You can up your own minds on that subject. Somewhere down the line, most of the music I listened to was way off the charts. It was odd when Elvis Costello had a Top Ten album with ‘Armed Forces’ and Talking Heads had a top forty hit with ‘Take Me to the River’.
And they were considered punk rock by most everyone.

A lot of the music I listen to lately topped the charts years ago, sometimes even decades. Everlasting Love indeed.

Greetings to Song in Sydney. Writing this later than usual. Frisbo in da house. Bill horizontal in bed. The Ipod mini did its job admirably today. Much ado about nothing, as per usual for a drama queen like myself. I was just so enamored of the Ipod that I got from Bill, so sleek so shiny, that I felt betrayed when it wouldn’t function like I expected.

You see? This is a good example on why I wouldn’t make a good parent. If I can’t handle a piece of machinery breaking down how could anyone ever expect me to handle a toddler being sick?

The day was the usual weirdness. Work started out being wet from the pissing rain. Couldn’t get started at all. Just so lethargic. As the day progressed it got better. I became more animated after lunch, and enjoyed a nice stroll through a sunny midtown afternoon after dropping off bagels and muffins.

There was some strangeness regarding the Persian bitch. Apparently she’s insisting I’m harassing her despite my not having any contact with her, and any emails I send, are cc’d to various other people.

Met Bill after work and we strolled down to 23rd Street, smoking cigars, to Tekserve, where Bill purchased the Ipod. We had hoped that they’d give me a new Ipod, but that was not to be. We met a customer service woman named Brandy who hooked the Ipod up to her Imac and showed me that everything seemed fine.

That gave me hope. Bill and I strolled to the Path train and sat in the first car watching the underground train tracks unfold before us. We got to Hoboken when I got two messages from Sir Frisbo. I called him back, inviting him to dinner at Arthur’s with Bill and myself.

He was into it and we met him outside. We got there right on time because within a few short minutes it became packed. Some beers, some Guinness. Afterwards a walk home, and back here.

The three of us were going to watch Hustle and Flow but got caught up in Dateline apprehending predators of young boys and girls. Now with Bill in bed, Frisbo and I are watching LA Confidential or rather, he watching it and I’m listening to a lot of gunfire.

I want to throttle Frisbo right now, ever so ably performing the role of ‘devil in my ear’. But the throttling would be out of utmost respect because Frisbo is actually hitting the right buttons, perhaps unwittingly.

Or of course I could be fooling myself. Fueled by herb, Guinness and a chocolate mousse cake with a few errant Gauloises thrown in my imagination could get the better of me. Hell, a doorknob could get the better of me. YOU, dear reader, could get the better of me.

Presently the Guinness is winning out despite a 14 ounce sirloin steak. Buzzing oh so lightly. The couch might make a better place to sit rather than this old computer chair.