Monthly Archives: March 2006

I Don’t Mind

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Back to work. Stupid Monday. Woke up before the alarm clock. I really hate when that happens. It happened frequently a while ago and I thought all had returned to what could be known as ‘normal’. But no. Not this morning. I even thought it might’ve been Sunday. It wasn’t. Did my morning routine/ritual, only without much hustle. Didn’t really care much you see…

It was a pretty good weekend, now it was back to reality. I ambled on up to Washington Street, waited for a bus since I had seen 2 fly by as I approached. I didn’t care, didn’t curse, I just accepted my fate since I really didn’t have any choice in the matter. Read the New Yorker about some auctioneer at Sotheby’s. It was interesting to read about how other people’s work is to fly over the world and arrange for the sale of very expensive artworks. Me? I ride the bus and the art is wherever I can find it.

It’s like Marcel Duchamp and his Ready-made’s. Art is where you find it sometimes. Yes you can create it, sometimes it’s there already, like a Campbell’s Soup Can or a Brillo Box, sometimes it’s just the way trash falls into a gutter or the arrangement of leaves on a tree or simply graffiti. You just have to keep your eyes and your mind open. Not easy to do sometimes when you just don’t want to see anything at all. But it pays off in spades. Epiphanies abound. And it’s great when it makes you smile or laugh.

I suppose this could be the after effect of going to the galleries with RoDa the other day. The third eye gets opened and you can take it all in. I must remember to get other friends involved in the next jaunt. Perhaps when Annemarie is in the area over the summer we can do some gallery hopping. But given the choice of the beach or a gallery in hot and humid Manhattan, the beach will win out.

As I tried to leave work Song called. It was odd though because I couldn’t hear him, all I could hear was my voice amplified. That was annoying, the amplification. Song could hear me though. I called him back and we plan to have dinner or was it lunch sometime this week before he flies back down under.

Tonight was an evening with Phillip Beansprout. We’re making some progress, and trying to get to the ‘issues’ earlier in the session rather than get all heated to find out, our time is up. We talked about last weeks session and how we are communicating a lot better.

I expressed my desire to have more time with Bill though on the other hand I do encourage him, to drive his buses, go on auditions. You can’t have it both ways, true, but just because I can’t have it doesn’t mean I don’t want it both ways. I would like us to do things together but he’s working all the time, for the betterment of us. It’s a real Catch 22 situation sometimes.

Phillip didn’t seem as exasperated as previous visits, and Bill and I seemed to be in the same wavelength. It ended on an up note and we wound up talking quite a bit about it. Now we are home, eating chicken sandwiches made by yours truly on the George, listening to Laraaji. Nice meditative music produced by Brian Eno years ago. Not quiet new age stuff, but soothing nonetheless. And it goes well with chicken, though the poultry might beg to differ.

Nice Time

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Woke up at 4:45AM this morning due to guests from a party on the second floor having an argument on the street. I was going to throw eggs at them but I was out. I stumbled over to the intercom and shouted to them to ‘Shut the Fuck Up!’ It worked and I was able to sleep for a few more hours. I felt bad for Julio who lives right above the party, apparently at some point they even broke out congas and were jamming in their illegal sublet. Luckily for them I’m not a snitch.

I did the bagel run this morning and newspapers. I even got Julio his bagel and paper. He bleary eyed not answering the door, but did call to say thanks and complain about his down stairs neighbors. Tierra del Fuego my ass.

Today was the day of my niece’s birthday party. It is very hard to believe it was 25 years ago that she was born. I remember being at the bowling alley that Monday night when she was born. Many beers were ingested and I wound up with the moniker of ‘punkle’. Punk/Uncle for those playing at home.

She’s a great kid, now a great woman. A teacher in her hometown. She was supported and encouraged by her parents and got good grades, ran track and participated in extracurricular activities. I’m her godfather, though with my atheism, I don’t know if the rules apply and since she’s 25 years old now I don’t think I would have to take care of her like a godparent is supposed to. I’m so proud of her and her sister.

My brother Brian and his wife, Karen with Hillary, Brian and Cassie were there. Lil Brian spent most of the time holed up in Cory’s old room watching the telly. It was good to have most of the family together. Took many pictures too. Too many for some.

Garfield was the usual battleship gray sky. A bit nippy which ensured I wasn’t going to go outside for a smoke. I prepared by having an Arturo Fuente cigar before leaving Hoboken, that a local shopkeeper laid on me in hopes that I would purchase my cigars from him. Very good cigar, but not at all like my Padron 5000 natural, and I wouldn’t get the great deal I get on the Padrons. So maybe in a pinch, but not for a regular supply.

And in a pinch, meaning, I’ll drink Budweiser only if I’m already drunk. Elaine really went overboard on the food, a lot of everything. She was pulling out all stops since my niece’s boyfriend’s parents were there. I guess we were all on our best behavior, but then again we always are when there’s company around. Elaine’s father was there, playing the role of wizened adult, interested in watching golf on TV. He’s earned the right. I do not begrudge him one bit.

Nice train ride home, back in Hoboken in no time. Had a nice Padron and didn’t leave a note in 2R’s mailbox. Now I wait for Julio to watch the Sopranos. Bill’s driving tonight so it’s just me and Julio and the telly.