Flava In Your Ear

A day unlike any other. But then again, aren’t they all? I think the illness I had suffered from yesterday turned out to be an allergy. But it was unlike other allergies I had suffered from before, where I walk down the street and snot running from my head like Niagara Falls, this was more like the Sahara desert. I was dry and not producing any lubricant. Sorry about the graphic.

I slept well, woke up ok, and set about going to work. Not as lopsided as yesterday, feeling alright, not top of my game, but relatively ok. Got to the office, new blood in the water, new people from London, still operating on London time so they are in before me. That’s fine, a bit awkward but bearable. I set about walking sideways doing the thing that it is that I do. Mundane tasks for a reasonable reward.

There were a few hairy moments where I rose above the mess and made everything run smoothly. I was impressed by it. Whether or not anyone else saw what I had done is beyond me. The trick is to get the job done without a hitch, without anyone noticing the job that you are doing, for it is behind the scenes and should go unnoticed by most. I did make a point of telling Felicia that she would be proud of me for what I had done and she said she already was. Sweet.

It was the last day for one of the resident Brits, Zimmerman. Nice guy, reminds me of Dominic Monaghan from the Lord of the Rings and lately, Lost. I had to interact with him the past month and weeks that I had been there, and I admit, I’m a sucker for someone who says, ‘Cheers’ instead of ‘Thanks’. It helps that it’s said by Merry or Charlie. Well it’s back to Swindon for him. Couldn’t hack the US. Homesick I guess. How ling that will last is another story. Perhaps when he gets back to gray Swindon, he’ll miss Technicolor Manhattan. He can always go to London I suppose.

Hell I can always go to London. One of these days I swear. Of course it would probably bring out he music geek in me, which would be more prevalent than naming each daily entry of the blog after a song. Yes, I could see myself photographing the zebra crosswalk outside of Abbey Road Studios. Pass the chicken, the geek is here.

I had a date to see Fay Victor sing at 55 Bar on Christopher Street. I used to work with Fay Victor at Wanker Banker. She sings Jazz, not my favorite type of music, but I reallly dig Fay’s voice and her band. Always turned on to new ideas and concepts when I sit there and listen. Almost like Pete Townshend’s comment about how great rock and roll makes you forget where and what you are. Sometimes when I see Fay sing live, I get that vibe.

The date I had was with Brenda who was a staunch ally at Wanker Banker. She was running late so instead of meeting her by the subway I met her at the bar, where I ran into my old boss, Robert. I like Robert. He’s a good guy and a good boss. Very fair. There were moments when I worked with him that we butted heads but it was always worked out. A fine proponent of the ‘Communicate Early and Often’ school. Which is a good motto and credo.

So the three of us chatted quietly while listening to Fay sing. A good time, great music and very good company. After the first set I had to leave as well as Brenda and Robert. We all walked to Sixth Avenue and got Brenda into a cab. Robert and I walked to the Path. He really is a good guy. He got onto his Journal Square train and I waited for Hoboken.

A beautiful night, walked down Washington Street and ran into Thaylor who is a fantastic woman. I’ve always liked her and her friend who is one of many who’s face I know from McSwells days but never got to know her, or her name. I finally got the name but I as write this it has escaped me. She wrote a book, which was inspiring. The concept of writing a book that is. I haven’t read it so I can’t say that it is inspiring.

That’s it for now. I’m pissed. In the British sense.

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