Sunday morning, I look out the window and watch a cat stuck on the roof a few doors down from me. How it got up there, I don’t know but it’s been trying to figure out a way down. He’s a black cat, looks like Zed. I took a few pictures, went out for bagels and papers came back and the cat was still there. Made some breakfast, and when I was done with the dishes I looked out the window and the cat was nowhere to be seen. I guess the cat figured it’s way down somehow. Don’t see or hear it anywhere.

Now on the phone with Julio who’s telling me about driving his mother to the airport for her visit to Spain. Apparently it all went well. He was understandably nervous, his mother being 78 years old and traveling alone. She made it to Madrid and despite her wanting to make it to the city itself, was met by Julio’s cousin. So she’s settled after a six and a half hour flight. No beach today, no bike ride planned with anyone. A little wake and bake entices me.

Bill came home around 11PM last night. I find myself wondering why didn’t I go anywhere at all? Why did I wait for Bill? Why did I wait for Julio? Neither was around. I should’ve gone somewhere, done something, but I sat around and waited for nothing at all. I should’ve gone to visit Juan and hold his hand while he went to the hospital, but then again I didn’t know he was in the hospital until later last night. He’s been in some pain and had to have it checked out and since it’s his problem and not mine I won’t mention what it might be, I’ll let him describe it at his own bat time on his own bat channel.

An early start for today’s blog, writing before noon, writing before 10:00AM. Previous years with my birthday being so close, this would’ve been my birthday weekend, a few days of debauchery and revelry. Not this year. It could be true that with each passing year the birthday thing becomes more and more tiresome for some. Never used to be that way for me, but then again since the awful events of five years ago my birthday has never been the same. A pall hangs over the day before with a hangover of mourning overshadowing my birthday the next day. I suppose that’s how it going to be. Walking around Hoboken yesterday I heard two different people talking about their respective birthday parties that they were planning for last night. Some girl telling her friend over and over on her cellphone that the friend should be ready to drink and that the party was going to be off the hook.

Bill did mention that he wanted to go to the Italian feast for the Madonna del Martiri. I thought he meant last night so I just sat around watching television, watching a documentary on Jackie Curtis called ‘Superstar in a Housedress’. Jackie Curtis was a playwright and a Warhol Superstar among other things. It was very good and sad to read that Jackie Curtis died at 38 of an overdose, joining Candy Darling and leaving Holly Woodlawn to figure it all out here on planet Earth. Turns out Bill figured that we could go to the feast tonight on it’s last night.

I threw in the DVD of ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ a silly little movie from 1978 about a group of teenagers trying to meet the Beatles and see them on the Ed Sullivan Show. I’d seen it before, it’s one of those silly movies that I rented thinking that Bill would enjoy it. He enjoyed and afterwards I went to bed, waking up to watch a cat wander around a rooftop trying to figure out how to get down. I myself, wander around my apartment, around Hoboken trying to figure out, how to get down.

Well I figured it out and it wasn’t really worthwhile to get down since there was no one to get down with. Just got back from walking around outside, the sky is turning gray, very breezy on Pier A where I sat and read the New Yorker. I was there for an hour or so, no phone calls, no one I knew. Very much a dismal day. Nothing to do. Forget about bike riding since it looks a bit like rain, and the Path station at the World Trade Center which would’ve been my bike ride back to New Jersey is closed for most of the afternoon due to the Chimp in Charge making a speech at Ground Zero.

Just a lonely Sunday in Hoboken.

Here’s some pics.

Saturday, slept in. Bill went out and got the papers and bagels as I slept, giving me a kiss before he headed to the city for his class. I didn’t get out of bed until around 9:00. Took a shower and made a weekend breakfast, reading the papers and eating a bagel. An easy lazy morning, watched the morning news and checked for email. Not much to report, no financial requests from Nigeria. A beautiful day beckoned outdoors. The phone rang, or rather vibrated and it was El Rey who was climbing the walls upstate and wanted to come down to the city.

Sounded like a good plan. I was in the idle of a lot of laundry. I found a lot of clothes when I cleaned the bedroom last weekend and some of it was clean, but dusty so I washed it. Three loads, clothes and sheets hanging on racks and chairs in the kitchen. Walking around negotiating wet clothes drying off. My sister called and asked if I opened the box. I didn’t dare, not without her go ahead. I opened the box and there was a beautiful card with a quote from Kahlil Gibran, as well as some chocolate chip cookies and brownies and an iTunes gift card.

She hit a home run again. She knew I loved her cookies and brownies and the gift card was a brilliant idea since with all the music I have, she might’ve taken a chance and gotten me a birthday present that I had already. This makes it easier and since the future is in mp3s and not cds I could just download whatever I want and I do have quite a few items in my shopping cart. Items that I had in one format or another at one point only missing them these days. Laurie Anderson, Lene Lovich, versions of Armageddon Time by the Clash. So many choices, what to do?

I went out around noon to run some errands, to the library, dry cleaners and shoemaker. It was a bright and beautiful day and decided to forego my original plan to go for a bike ride and head into the city to hang out with El Rey. I came back home and hung out some more, eventually getting tired of sitting around and figured I’d just walk to the waterfront and sit there and wait for El Rey’s call. I sat and read the New Yorker and listened to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros.

There was an Italian feast going on and I slipped off the headphones and listened to some tenor sing some popular arias. The phone rang and it was El Rey who sounded frazzled from driving so much and looking for parking that he wasn’t going to hang out, just get whatever he wanted to get and go back upstate. So no hanging out, which freed me up to do nothing really. I went to the supermarket and did some shopping, came home and napped, only to be awoken by a group of Italian musicians playing in the street as part of a procession for the Madonna del Martiri or something like that.