Yes it’s my birthday and fucking hell has it been a trial. Of course, me being me, drama queen it’s not as bad as all that, or is it? Day started out nice, Bill stayed over so I’d wake up with him and he was giving me a kiss in bed at 6:00 this morning. I enjoyed that. Then Bill was out the door again. As I walked through the apartment, there were birthday cards, three of them each on a box of brownie mix. On top of the stove was a nicely wrapped box with a bow on it. I picked it up and it shook a bit. After the shower, and coffee I opened the box to find a sauce pan. Nice stainless steel sauce pan. Why a sauce pan? I don’t know.

Amazingly it was all I could focus on this morning. I instant messaged Bill when I got to work and he told me the sauce pan was for making brownies, since the last time the other day they came out terribly. From now on, I’ll be able to make brownies in a sauce pan. But I really can’t do that since the sauce pan is too shallow and what I really needed was a mixing bowl, and I really don’t need a mixing bowl. But a sauce pan is nice. Next time I make sauce, meaning next time I open a jar of tomato sauce I will have a pot to…..pour sauce in.

Carla the receptionist was happy because it was my birthday and so were other people who phoned me, Billie, Pedro, Harpy, and of course Annemarie. I even spoke to brother Frank but he didn’t bring up the birthday and neither did I. He has other more important things on his mind than my birthday. Got e-cards and greetings from brother Brian, little Brian, Chaz and William and plenty of good vibrations from Bill. But aspects of my father’s personality were edging around my mind. I realized that and decided to head out for lunch and have a cigar.

I planned to sit on Park Avenue, it was a beautiful day but all the good spots were crowded and I didn’t want to offend anyone with my cigar. I discreetly puffed walking down Park Avenue looking for a spot when about 20 feet behind me, some guy who reminded me of Fred Kleinke, (psycho nerd drip former landlord in Weehawken) shouting about ‘how the fuck could I smoke a cigar?’ Really shouting. People stopped and stared. He walks up to me on his way back to his mail room job and shouts about how his father used to smoke cigars and how it fucked him up. Then he turns and screams at me, “I hope you die a fucking painful death!”

Nice. Happy birthday indeed.

Got back to office and of course things were strange there. I knew Carla was passing around a birthday card for people to sign. I buried myself in my cube, dreading the thought of cake and having to force a smile when I was having difficulty with the world. 5:00 came soon enough, there was no cake. I was glad. Another year without birthday cake is fine with me. Have enough cookies and brownies from Annemarie that cake would be redundant. Carla did snag me at the door and had me follow her to Greg Stevens office where Greg and Tom Chin and Carla gave me a card and a few cigars. That was great. Everyone in the office signed the card and wished me well.

I walked Carla to her train and walked to the bus terminal where some jerk stepped on the back of my shoe. I turned and he gave me the ‘oops! Sorry!’ look, I returned with what was probably one of my father’s death stares. Got off the bus, ran into Roda who I invited over for some jazz before Bill and I headed to Arthur’s for dinner. Bill and I headed over after Roda and my jazz session. There were no outside tables but that was ok, I was hungry. We sat and waited for the waiter who showed up and told us that the credit card machine wasn’t working properly and he was telling us now before we ordered. I turned to Bill and suggested going home and ordering Grimaldi’s pizza and that is where we are now. I’m avoiding the world but if they want to call that’s ok, but I am screening calls.

Bill sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and here are some pics of them.

Thank you Bill and thank you everyone for being my friend.

It’s September 11 again. Remembrances, memorials and moments of silence. The world continues spinning. Overall it’s a sad day. As the years go on, the pain and tears lessen but the occasional pang erupts and eyes moisten. A lot of people took off the day in the city it seemed. Noticeably fewer people on the sidewalks. Today was perfect weather wise for a day like today. Gray and overcast, and quite humid. Could have done without the humidity. Nothing you can do about that just as there is nothing you can do about the past. Just got to move on and take your time while doing so.

Annemarie was right. The eggs are being thrown out though I wish I had someone I disliked enough to throw them at. The White House is too far away, and Cheney’s Chamber of Mystery is too well hidden, so I guess it’s in the trash they will go. I prefer free range eggs myself, but who can turn down 2 and a half dozen free eggs? Not me, obviously. The eggs expired, or actually the last day they could be for sale was September 9, which is the day I made the brownies from hell. I think it was the plastic since that was the taste I could not get out of my mouth, not the eggs. But since the sell by date has come and gone, time to donate those eggs to the garbage man. Such is the life of an egg donor like myself.

Woke up this morning, and like yesterday it was overcast which was like waking up in the winter, in darkness. Makes it difficult to rouse oneself out of slumber but I was able to, on my own, no prodding from Bill since he was with his mom last night. I guess there will be five more weeks of that. He plans to stay over tonight and tomorrow so I will wake up on my birthday with Bill next to me and go to bed the same way, with Bill next to me. That’s a nice way to start and end my birthday. Of course I can think of other things to make the day that much sweeter, but those thoughts remain silent and buried in my consciousness.

I got an early present from Annemarie, Rex and Earl who mailed a package from San Francisco and arrived yesterday. I tried to hold off on opening it, but Annemarie made me open it. She insisted and pulled the older sister tone of voice (no she didn’t). I got two books by Sherman Alexie, an iTunes gift card, Bruce, Boz Scaggs, Cat Stevens, Damian Marley and a collection of songs from Woody Allen’s films that she burned for me at my request. And also at my request, most importantly cookies and brownies that don’t make me ill and taste like, surprisingly enough like cookies and brownies. What is her secret?

Just got a phone call from Teo Oliveri who was a neighbor when I lived in a basement hovel at 1124 Willow Avenue in Hoboken. He called to wish me a happy birthday as he was on his way to a 12 step meeting. Good for him and good luck to him. He was a little out of control when I last saw him, but I have seen worse from other people.

I was supposed to go out for cocktails with Renee, a former employee of McMann and Tate and Amiable Alan who still works there. It was planned last week and the plans started to fall apart last night, finally collapsing when Alan couldn’t make it due to the oily wolves he works for. C’est la vie. It’s good to be home.

Gimme a cookie!