A beautiful Saturday. Yet with nothing to do. Last night I was so achy what with the rain and everything and I slept like a log, woke up refreshed which is how it should be. Did the usual thing, which according to Harpy, you don’t want to know about so for your sensitive soul I shall refrain from writing about it. Instead I write about how I am avoiding writing about the mundane things in my day to day life. You want flair, you want drama. Well it looks like I seem to be all out of both. Deal with it, yo.

It was a beautiful day, and I definitely didn’t want to sit in the apartment or for that case, I didn’t want to stay in Hoboken. Of course, no one is around to do anything with. I called Roda, but he was busy. Same with Julio. Bill was at his vocal classes and then to his folks, and Juan was working in goddamned Edison NJ. And I missed Song totally, since he flew back to Sydney today. I decided to head into the city and perhaps go to Summerstage. Some New Orleans thing was going on and it was something to do. I fortified myself with things to read, and bought two bananas.

Suit Seller

I spoke on the phone with Meghan Taylor Mastro for quite a while on the phone. The Guitar Bar All Stars are playing a make up date at Sinatra Park to make up for their original show which was rained out. Meghan told me Jim was touring with Ian Hunter in Europe. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing Meghan and Jim and Lily and Ruby. Lily, who’s been working at the Guitar Bar may even jam with the All Stars, though since she works there, she’s an All Star to begin with.

Flyer

The bus ride was uneventful as was most everything in the day. I stopped by Bryant Park just to see if I could connect with the wireless set up there and I couldn’t. I did call Arcata and spoke with Earl for a spell as I walked up Sixth Avenue. Walking into the park I was surprised at the amount of people roaming about. I wound up on the rock of course, listening to some New Orleans music, getting a little too jazzy and watching various other jazz aficionados.

I got tired of that after the first act. My back was aching and certain parts of the rock don’t lend itself for comfort. I walked it off, finding a bench for support. The Soul Rebel Brass Band took the stage and I could hear them quite clearly as the horns meshed with an Asian drum group beat their percussion not too far away. Soon I made my way out of the park after hanging out for a few hours, doing things that I could just as easily done at home. Not that it would have been the same. On the contrary, there’s a certain energy in Manhattan, and a certain energy in Central Park that I simply cannot duplicate in my apartment, or in Hoboken.

As I was getting ready to head into the city I was seized by an absurd sense of the surreal, or it may have been a surreal sense of the absurd. I had my camera and took some interesting photos. Or at least, I’d like to think so.

Asian Percussion

RIP Tony Wilson 1950-2007