Editrix Harpy called last night with some more suggestions that I don’t recall at the moment. Maybe a bagel will jog my memory. Nope. It ain’t happenin’. It’s awfully hot out. 87 degrees and thick as hummus once again. It’s gross out. Hardly anyone on the street. Shade is a commodity outside. Inside too. I suppose I’m in my man cave. It’s relatively dark and musky. No wait, not THAT man cave, I mean the apartment. It’s usually nice with a cross ventilation going on but not right now. It’s a warm breeze that flows through, which is better than no breeze.

I made my errands early before it started scorching and I decided to head over to Governor’s Island to see the ‘In the Pocket’ series, featuring a Bhangra vs. Reggae Inna Sound Clash planned to meet Carla the receptionist and her friend Millie. It was supposed to start at 1:00 so I decided not to do the laundry until later so I could leave the apartment around 11:45. I didn’t know whether or not to take a bus or the train so I made my mind up when I got to Washington Street and went for the bus. Air conditioned and less people.

Here’s selections from today’s notebook.

On the 126 to Manhattan. Going to Governor’s Island to see the Sound Clash that Carla has been talking about. She went to see Camera Obscura last night at the South Street Seaport, and I begged off, because of the pissy mood I was in yesterday, not feeling better until about an hour or so after I wrote last night’s blogarama. Never been to Governor’s Island before so it seems out of the ordinary, not out of the way.

Saw Ally Politkowski riding a bike on Washington Street not wearing a helmet and sweating profusely. We mainly chatted about Steve Fallon. Ally goes down to Rehoboth to visit Steve and Arnold from time to time. Ally is now working for the Associated Press. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t think he’s a writer, or creative like that. I don’t mean that as an insult. He’s a sweetheart.

Got a phone call from Pedro inviting me up to Otisville. Why does he wait until the last minute to invite me? I mentioned next weekend, since I already had plans. Next weekend is Labor Day weekend so that might work though Pedro is not so sure if it will. He’s trying to get as much overtime as possible.

Also got a phone call from Julio who was talking about going to the beach, having loaded up his trunk with beach equipment. When I heard that I was all set to jump off the bus. But I knew deep down that it was too late to go to the beach. It was after 12 noon and most of the beaches would be crazy crowded by the time we would get there. Tomorrow is up in the air, hopefully like a Frisbee.

Saw two children with lousy parents or guardians on the train this afternoon. One kid got hit in the neck accidentally by his one eyed, toothless guardian who told the kid to watch were he was going. The other kid was a few minutes later who was standing up until his father put him down really hard on the train seat making the kid cry. One of the kid’s brothers was trying to calm him down, but the boys teenage mother told her to let him cry, he only wants attention. The little kid just sat there after he was all cried out giving his father the death stare. I just hope these boys don’t wind up in the New York Post.

Here’s some pics of Governor’s Island.
Leaving Manhattan

Approaching Monster…ummm…Governors Island

Radical Ferries

A walk a way

Girl on stilts with her Dad

Ol’ whatsername

Some people

Carla and Millie

Me and Carla

Keepin it Gully

It’s Friday and I’m in a bad mood. I suppose I was due for a bad mood, things had been going relatively ok the past few weeks. Now I hold most everyone in disdain. That includes friends, and it almost includes Bill. He’s thisclose but since his father isn’t doing so well, he’s not on the list of the disdained. I figure if no one wants to hang out with me, fuck ’em. I don’t want to hang out with them either. It all fell apart, or fell together these feelings I currently hold. I didn’t want to go to work today but of course I had to. That was the initial feeling I woke up with. A disappointing way to wake up if you ask me.

Here’s some notes I wrote in my notebook. It comes in handy for moments like this.

On the Path train. To my right is the conductor doing chin ups as the train rolls from 33rd street to 23rd street. The office closed early today which for me is too late. I would have preferred leaving the office at 10:00 after putting in two hours. Once again the AMEX bill I thought I finished two months ago comes back to bite me on the ass. Such a waste. The paperwork I submitted can’t be found, it’s gone missing. People can be such stupid scumbags sometimes.

I walked to the bus terminal after work, taking my time, enjoying a Padron on my way. Once inside the terminal, I turn a corner and see a very long line of people waiting for the bus to Hoboken. I am in no mood to wait on line with these fucking idiots and I decide to walk to the Path train instead. Trying to walk on the shadow side of Eighth Avenue since the sun is finally beaming and it’s 85 degrees out.

I passed so many people looking for money, for drugs, to get home, for whatever. I am in no mood and glide on by. I get to 32nd street to catch the Path train when I spot an elderly gent who’s blind trying to walk against the crowds of people who want to get to Penn Station. I ask him if he needed help and he said that he did. I offer him my arm and it’s off we go. Bog old me, shielding him from the salmon swimming upstream to their Long Island trains.

His name was Ed and being an old man, he takes baby steps, or in this case old man steps. What should have been a 10 minute walk to the corner turns into a 30 minute walk. He did appreciate my assistance and also probably appreciated having someone to talk to and look out for him.

Ed was from Newark and now he lives in Port Washington. He used to work for B. Altman for 35 years and he was in the city for a haircut from the same woman who has been cutting his hair for close to 30 years. It used to be $2.00 for a haircut. Now it’s $14.00.

I walked Ed to 33rd Street and Broadway where there was less people and he was comfortable enough to continue on his own. I hope he gets back alright.

Now I’m back in Hoboken and I don’t care to see or hear from any of my friends. It’s easier to say that now, than to be disappointed when they don’t call or show up later. And what I mean by later, I mean over the weekend.

It’s a few hours later and I’ve mellowed somewhat. Most chill.