Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, though I’m not in Pleasant Valley, I’m in Hoboken and if the weather is how it is in Hoboken, then Pleasant Valley must be mighty pleasant indeed. Last night I didn’t do much of anything except for some Jazz riffs in 4/20 time. A difficult time signature, quite manic possibly. I can’t even begin to think how many beats per minute (BPM) it would entail. So there was nothing complicated outside my mind, all internal. I was thinking about how if anyone was stuck, thinking of a present to get me, well they should get me the dvd of Hannah and Her Sisters.

I was surfing the channels at 9:00 and found that Hannah and Her Sisters was on one of the channels. I watched the whole thing from start to finish, loving it. It really is one of Woody Allen’s best, in the top five at least. I saw it initially in Boston with Steve Saporito when we traveled to meet the Fall when they were on tour for Bend Sinister. It was a cold February afternoon and we needed some shelter. The movie came out maybe a week before and both Steve and I liked Woody Allen a lot, so it was a good idea. Though at that time I was terribly hung up on Steve, thinking he was ‘the one’, I would’ve gone anywhere he suggested. Such a silly youth I was. Steve didn’t feel the same way and That’s life, that’s what people say.

So many good lines, great acting, and one of the last glimpses of Manhattan before it became gentrified. Mainly the scenes with Barbara Hershey in Soho. Now that whole area is all very upscale stores. Big money names. Definitely not as fun as it was then and that was at the tipping point. Hardly anyone went down there. I hardly went down there so each time I did actually go to SohoZat or Rocks in Your Head or art galleries it was exotic and urban and perhaps a hint of danger, just from deserted streets. The music is classic, Dianne Weist won a well deserved Oscar, and the first time I saw Hannah and Her Sisters, I got all misty at the end.

After that I watched the repeat of Saturday Night Live with Le Bron James and Kanye West. Le Bron James was still very funny. Good to see a top ranking professional athlete, intelligent enough to mock stereotypes and make fun of himself. I was also reading Pattie Boyd’s memoir, Something in the Way She Layla’s. No it’s actually called Wonderful Tonight. I went to the George Harrison/Beatles/Swinging London parts and dove right in. Wanted some light fare to read and that Pattie was the fairest of them all.

Chatted online with my niece Corinne last night. She told me that there was an impromptu birthday gathering for brother Frank and she was offering to pick me up in Hoboken to deliver me to Garfield. A grand idea indeed. I woke up this morning, ran a few errands, thought about making plans to see at least Roda’s part of the Artist Studio Tour. I called Roda who told me he wasn’t even sure if he was going to make it. His artwork was there, just that he might not be. That was cool. One less thing to hustle for.

I sat on the stoop, eventually getting a call from Elaine who was in the car with Corinne. In Garfield soon enough where we wound up waiting for Frank. Brother Brian and family weren’t able to make it so it was that much more low key. Frank arrived, looking good, almost back to his old self, getting a little fast with the wit, sometimes stumbling when thoughts and words collide but that happens to me to. A few jokes about strokes were made which really hammered home how much better he has gotten. He mentioned a magazine at the rehab unit called Stroke. I initially thought Gay Porn, Rob, Meghan’s husband thought Golf, when it was actually about strokes. Stuff like that.

A nice ravioli dinner with pistachio cake made by Elaine. After a few hours I had to head back to Hoboken and got a ride from Meghan and Rob in Rob’s new big ass jeep. All quite on the fly and it worked out quite nicely.

Look! Pics!

Lil’ Cory

Meghan and Rob

Spot the pocket book mouth

and once tickled…

and a little photo editing..voila!

Garfield ghost

After an afternoon, followed by an evening of rain, after watching TV all night, finally falling asleep around 12:30 or so I woke up to a crisp autumn morning. Nothing to eat for breakfast meant that I would have to go to the supermarket to pick up provisions if I was going to break my fast. I ran into Julio kissing Stine goodbye on the third floor landing. Julio was headed to West New York to repair some repairs that a well intentioned tenant had performed themselves, only to make matters worse and create the need for Julio to go and do his landlord bit.

I walked him to his car and then it was off to run errands at 9:00 in the morning. The stroller set were making their initial appearances on Washington Street which meant that I had better get out of there quickly lest I start tripping over the many baby carriages that always spring up on a Saturday morning after a rainfall. Even made it to the bank. To make a deposit. In my account. That hardly ever happens, maybe twice a month. This allows me to see the fresh scrubbed faces behind the two inch glass that separates me from my money.

I decided to hold off on the jazz experience until 4:20 PM, after reading yesterday the meaning behind 4:20. It’s a term that I had heard many times, yet never put into practice until today. Now it’s 4:41 and this is the second attempt at writing this since the first attempt froze up and is now floating somewhere in cyberspace. It froze at 4:24 tainting what should have been a pleasant 4:20 experience. No worries, it’s just that I hardly ever rewrite and with Harpy not being a very good editor these days I am left on my own.

I walked around Hoboken for a spell earlier, not affected by any paranoia that sometimes duets with a good jazz riff. It was good to get out of the house as it was a brilliant day. I considered heading into the city to check out some galleries or maybe see Across the Universe, that Juan recommended but I wasn’t that motivated to do so. I did get sucked into watching a good TV movie about Helen Keller, starring Mare Winningham and Blythe Danner. It takes place after the Miracle Worker, after Helen leaves Alabama to go to school at Radcliffe. There’s a soft spot in my heart for Helen Keller, after I read and reread her biography in grammar school. I never did see the Miracle Worker, though I did enjoy this. I do love Mare Winningham and Blythe Danner was also very good as Anne Sullivan.

I tried to think of something to do, thought about heading into the city, maybe check out some galleries, thought about seeing Across The Universe on Juan’s recommendation, but with the motivation of someone else to go with I wound up by the edge of the Hudson River on a bench,writing. I know I could have called up someone to join me but I didn’t. More than likely I would have heard excuses on why some people couldn’t join me. No big deal, in fact I could have been wrong, someone might have said yes but I didn’t take that chance.

Tomorrow is the Artist’s Studio Tour in Hoboken. An open house of sorts, people wander around from studio to studio throughout Hoboken, looking at art and drinking wine and eating cheese and crackers. After a few stops on the tour, one sometimes starts judging the art by the food and wine the artists put out. Roda is taking part in the tour as well as Tim Daly and Hiro Takeshita. Hiro lives in the building I lived in 23 years ago on Madison Street. I’m sure if you go back to a Sunday in last year’s blog, or perhaps in 2005 you’ll see an entry regarding the tours during those years.

And now, some pics.

Guess who?

Run! Run for your life! And get the hell out of my frame!

Brunchers

Corner scene

NOT featured on the Artists studio tour