It’s a Saturday, a day of recovery oddly enough. Well, not really oddly enough since I knew I was drinking and I knew there would be a price to pay. The Piper’s Union sent their dues collector and that went well. They let me alone soon after that. I didn’t sleep particularly well, but slept about 8 hours which was good. Only a few steps behind myself most of the day. Contact with the outside world was kept to a minimum which was best for all concerned. And on top of that it was hot and the sun was quite strong. I went out for some items this morning and ran into Alice Genesse, Glenn Morrow and his wife Elizabeth (?) and also saw Tim Daly. These various people from my McSwells days, good to see them, but couldn’t stay too long to chat because of my aforementioned state of mind and disrepair as well as starting to melt under the oppressive morning sun.

Running on empty I suppose. Need to recharge. So far the day has been filled with laundry, food shopping, dry cleaning, eating, and reading the papers while an excellent BBC documentary on Black Popular Music. It’s on right now on VH1 Classics. It came on after I watched a documentary on Stevie Wonder and making Songs In the Key of Life. That record was massive and still resonates today. Some commentator said it’s much a touchstone of modern popular music as Sgt. Pepper. Now they’re onto Aretha Franklin signing with Atlantic Records. Great footage and it was written by Barney Hoskins who’s work I enjoy. I met him once back in the day when he came to Right Track Studios to interview Metallica. Anyway, it’s work checking out.

Plan to take a nap soon, that tired I am. After that I might watch Knocked Up from Netflix or Blue Velvet, which I hadn’t seen in a number of years. Let’s see if it holds up. Last night was a good evening with Vivek and Carla. Vivek certainly knows how to have a good time and he’s also a Yankees fan which I won’t hold against him.

Bill was a few blocks away from the pub where I was quaffing a few pints being the stage manager for Monk. He decided to take a town car home and while putting his things in the trunk, accidentally left a bag on the sidewalk. He drove by, dropped off his gear on the first floor then went back into the city to see if the bag would still be there. I think you know the outcome to that.

You never can tell though. One day back in the eighties, I had parked the company van on east 18th street, going to deliver the interoffice mail, and while I was doing that someone broke into the van and stole my bag of tapes which also had my checkbook in it. I wrote it off, closed the checking account and mourned the loss of my tapes. A week later I get a call from the NYPD. They had my bag with the tapes in it, and tracked me down since my name was on the checkbook. The only thing missing was a Graham Parker cassette which I didn’t much care for anyhow.

This was easier than I expected. I should be hungover more often.