Monthly Archives: June 2006

If You’ve Got Trouble

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Man I couldn’t wake up this morning. Perhaps too many jazz cigarettes last night. There’s an unease between Bill and myself lately. I need to keep reminding him to communicate. And it’s an odd thing to say to someone who usually has a lot to say. He claims to be embarrassed by talking about some things, embarrassed in front of the one person on the planet whom he shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of.

Yesterday I was hoping that we could spend some nice quality time together, hell, I would’ve gone to Tekserve with him if he had asked. He was there most of the afternoon, in the audio department playing a piano. Nice. Would have liked to have seen that. Would’ve been nice to walk around the city, even Chelsea with him. But I wasn’t asked.

The summer has a lot of fun things happening this summer and I plan on going to these shows with various friends, or even going alone. Tomorrow night, there is a show at the World Financial Center featuring the Eels. I’ve heard some good things about them, and the singer E, smokes cigars onstage, which should give me liberty to smoke a cigar in the audience while watching the show. It’s something to do, its outdoors and it’s free. This weekend Teddy Thompson will be at Summerstage and he falls in with the Wainwright crowd, Rufus and Martha. Teddy is the child of Richard and Linda Thompson. He’s sung a duet with Rufus on the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack, King of the Road.

Talented children from broken homes. Oh why wasn’t my house broken? Why wasn’t I house broken?

Work was ok, walked down Hudson listening to selections from the Beatles Anthology discs. Songs that never made the cut, songs with one of the Fabs joking about before launching into a nearly adequate version of one of their hits. Some were understandably never released, only available to feverish collectors of all things Fab.

Got to the office, major big wigs in from the UK. Nice blokes they seem to be. Felicia returned from her four day weekend which didn’t seem to be much fun for her since she was the planner for a coworkers wedding. She’s not too keen on the coworker, and according to Felicia, this coworker has a habit of saying the wrong thing. Apparently the coworker made a comment about it being a good thing that Felicia had cancer since planning for the wedding would enable Felicia to devote her depleted energy to the event.

Felicia does seem to be rather cool and I found we both agree that some of the Brits that work in the office really have some snobbish aspects. It’s mainly two women, two slags as they’re called over there. It’s almost as if they have titanium rods up their arses, all the way to their stiff upper lips. We ran down mental lists of who in the office we like and who we don’t and our lists were almost identical. Granted, Felicia was on top of that list when I started, then she started falling lower on the list, eventually winding up off the list completely.

It’s a good thing I wrote the list with a mental pencil.

Felicia and I have made plans to check out Me’Shell Ndegeocello next week in Madison Square Park. You’re welcome to join us.

Precious and Few

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Sunday. Blasé. Slept until 9:30, which was nice. Nothing planned. Did the shower, coffee thing before heading out for bagels and the newspapers. Lazy morning, I ran into Mike and Clara with their toddler. They were off to the river, they were planning on heading out there. I was more interested in getting some coffee and breakfast in the apartment. Got Bill some bagels, none for Julio and Stine since I didn’t know if they were even around.

Kevin Aviance, a drag queen that I met years ago at People magazine for a gay and lesbian seminar was on the front pages of the Daily News and the New York Post. Seems that he was jumped by four or five idiots in the East Village after a performance at the Phoenix. They caught the fuckers, but now Kevin won’t be performing for any pride celebrations since he was left with a broken jaw. He wasn’t in drag when the morons started calling him faggot and sucker punching him in the head. But like I said, they caught the assailants.

Sad to say but in the 21st Century, a gay person still is not safe sometimes, even in the East Village. I have been lucky, never been around shit like that though back in the day I was in a bar on the west side, Keller’s, with Jet when someone threw bricks and smashed the window. Thankfully no one was injured. Gay bashing goes on, and is sometimes unreported.

When Bill and I used to go out, walking around the Village holding hands, we felt relatively safe. I remember telling Pedro what we had done, just strolling, and he had gotten very upset. Not upset at the thought of us holding hands, but upset at the thought that someone could’ve attacked us for just doing that. It happens, but more than likely to guys smaller than Bill and myself. 6’2” or so, both averaging over 200 pounds, but we could be in trouble if confronted by a group. I can understand Pedro’s concern and it’s appreciated.

Bill and I don’t walk around holding hands anymore, anyway.

It was a brilliant day weather wise, very sunny and very breezy. I walked out of the apartment over to the river and sat on Pier A, reading Mojo and smoking a cigar. I played Rubber Soul by the Beatles on the iPod and decided to stay there until the record ended. Actually until the music file ended. Lot’s of young people pushing strollers. It used to be when a couple had a baby they left town to raise the kids in the suburbs. Now they linger in town. Sometimes it can be a chore, navigating around various strollers and toddlers. Sitting down, smoking a Padron usually keeps them at bay.

After Rubber Soul finished I got up and played Revolver. Made sense. The Beatles are also the cover story for Mojo this month, regarding the 30th anniversary of Revolver’s release. So for the past few days, just been reading a lot about them and opinions by 100 musicians about their favorite Beatles songs. One of my favorites, ‘You Know My Name (Look Up The Number) was added by Frank Black from the Pixies.

Juan’s new haircut is Beatle-esque. I mean that as a compliment. He won’t read it as such probably.