Monthly Archives: May 2008

Da Butt

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Ok, I have a swollen face. Well it was really swollen this morning. It’s gone down considerably. Things have improved a lot between Bill and myself. Last night I took a nap from 5:30 to about 10:00. Saw Bill and went to bed an hour later. So it was cool. Still have some ways to go but he’s working on it.

I haven’t had a cigarette in over 24 hours and that is an accomplishment. I do enjoy holding one, but no lighting. Holding one is enough. If I could get off cigarettes I would be impressed. The cigars are an occasional thing though.

I certainly don’t mind being around smokers and in midtown Manhattan, outside of most office buildings there are a lot of smokers mingling. The thing is I always liked smoking. I wanted to do it when I was just a kid. I was surrounded by smokers since most everyone smoked back then. It was alright. In junior and senior year of high school, we could smoke in out designated smoking area.

Smoking saved my butt also. In summer school between junior and senior year having cigarettes helped me win favor from the ‘cool’ kids so much so, that when the regular sessions began in the fall, I wasn’t picked on so much since the cool kids liked me. For my cigarettes of course. Having 2 parents that smoked made sure that I wouldn’t be out of cigarettes. I must have had my first cigarette when I may have been about 10 years old.

Johnny Serpone, a neighbor and I plotted out stealing a pack of cigarettes from his parents and riding down to Industrial Lane on a Saturday afternoon and have our first puffs. I barely had a puff before I was wracked with guilt and fear and rode my bicycle home, gulping in as much air and running to the kitchen faucet when I got home to drink as much water as possible.

At various points in my childhood I was hanging out with juvenile delinquent smokers. At the Boys Club which was supposed to be where boys could get away from bad influences, I went out of my way to find the bad influences. Also outside the VFW where my parents hung out. Found myself outside with some naer do wells sneaking illicit puffs. I was found out though, but I doubt my siblings remember.

Everyone smoked. It was everywhere. You could smoke in the bank, in the supermarket, movie theaters were great places to smoke. Hospitals, doctor’s offices, buses, trains, restaurants. They frowned on places of worship, though one had to wonder where they got the ashes for Ash Wednesday. Having a cigarette was a good way to meet people, and not just oncologists.

You could ask someone for a light, and perhaps strike up a conversation or more. Or when cigarettes were cheaper you could bum a cigarette from someone or they could bum from you. Nowadays, people offer you money for a cigarette, sometimes a quarter, but lately a dollar.

Me, I rolled my own. Sometimes people would ask for a cigarette and I would offer a ready rolled cigarette. More often than not they would refuse, proving that beggars could be choosers. So, it’s been over 24 hours, been holding a cigarette, not lighting it. Feels good just to hold it. I guess it’s like Baretta. All I need is a cockatoo. Or was that a typo?

On My Radio

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Well it’s a new day and I feel like shit. Didn’t sleep well and I am anxious about this afternoon’s oral surgery. I feel somewhat doomed. Last night still replays in my mind. I was supposed to go with Bill and his cousin to see Natalie Cole (?) this weekend but I told Bill to forget about it. I really don’t give a damn about Natalie Cole. I’m sure she’s a nice person But I would rather not go. Things are definitely up in the air vis a vis Bill and myself. He’s also supposed to be the godfather to a friend’s baby on Saturday afternoon and since last night I would rather not go to that as well.

Let’s face it, the way I feel now, I doubt I will be doing anything with Bill in the near future. To Bill’s credit I got 2 text messages this morning, the first one went as follows: ‘Babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t let u know I needed more time to finish my work instead of having u waiting around not knowing what was going on. I’m also sorry 4 snapping @ u b4 entering the subway. U shouldn’t have 2 bear the brunt of my frustrations’. And the second text message: I truly love u and only want happiness 4 u. Also (and I hope u embrace this as much as I mean this), u, r a winner.’

All very nice and I’m sure he spoke with his friend Margaret which prompted him to have such an about face, because last night he was quite adamant in his refusal to apologize for anything as I sat there being hurt. Do I need this? No I don’t. I have enough on my plate, as does Bill. I asked Bill on the phone last night if he noticed that I don’t tell him anything really about what is going on in my life and of course he didn’t notice and why should he. He’s always going off on what is plaguing his life at the moment and after his comment that I am high maintenance I decided not to tell him anything personal about me.

Great relationship huh?

As I walked across town this morning on my way to work, I decided to play side 2 of the Buzzcocks ‘A Different Kind of Tension’ starting out with ‘I Don’t Know What to Do With My Life’ and ending with ‘I Believe’ which is one of my all time favorite songs. I was surprised that I was getting choked up during ‘I Believe’ singing quietly to myself and walking through Bryant Park. I continued after that to Singles Going Steady, the Buzzcocks singles compilation. Ever Fallen In Love, What Do I Get, Promises all hit home.

I tell you Pete Shelley really hit the nail on the head when he wrote those songs. Now it’s back to the anxiety, the fear that something is going to go wrong with my oral surgery. My brother Frank had his stroke last year, around this time, the dreaded month of May and I feel I am slated for the same fate or worse depending on how you look at it. In any event I would like ‘I Believe’ by the Buzzcocks to be played during my memorial service. I definitely don’t have a positive attitude towards the whole thing and once again I am on my own, going through it solo. I guess writing about what songs I would like played at my memorial service betrays my morbid approach to the whole situation.

CODA

Walked to the Dental School, and it was warm enough outside to break a sweat and that’s when I realized I forgot to put on deodorant this morning, so out of it was I. I got to the front desk on the fifth floor and let them know I was in. As I was taking a seat, who do I see but Bill. Apparently he took half a day off at work so he could be with me. I was pretty much frightened of the whole oral surgery thing, and the memory of my brother Frank’s stroke, caused initially by a tooth infection added fuel to my fire.

I told Bill that if I start talking incoherently and I’m not drunk or on drugs, get me to a hospital pronto. With the stress of the dentist as well as last night’s fiasco I was a bundle of nerves and it showed this morning. And no real restful sleep. I think Bill either figured it out from what I told him last night, or someone else talked some sense into him but he was somewhat humbled this afternoon. We still have a lot to talk about with regards to it all. I’m tired.