Monthly Archives: January 2009

Don’t Come Around Here No More

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Well Harpy swore me to secrecy, that Farfetched will be closing at the end of February. Yesterday I found out that they will be closing at the end of January. Everything must go. They’re even selling the shelves. Harpy just called and wondered why I wasn’t there at the store.

After a 28 year run, Susan Zappone and Lois Marsilio are being forced out of business. The raising of the rent you see. It was outrageous rent to begin with, now it can only be described as out of control.

I started working there on and off about 10 years ago. The store had just been robbed by a guy named Delroy Kemp. He had a gun and not only did he rob the store, he robbed the customers as well. The employees at the time were women, Susan, Lois and Denise. Harpy was living the life of a country squire in Rhinebeck or La Grangeville.

I was working at Right Track at the time and was invited to a gathering at the Paramount Hotel that Harpy was having for his then companion, Carol. That’s where I met Susan. Actually I think it might have been when I passed a package of powders to Harpy.

Harpy mentioned that I might be interested in extra money and it would probably be a good thing to have a big guy behind the counter. I qualified as a big guy. Still not sure how intimidating I could be. No robberies on my watch I have to say.

For a while I mainly worked with Denise on weekends. Me coming in at 1PM and working until 7PM for $10.00 an hour. I enjoyed working there though even after all these years I never really felt I fit in. I knew the writing was on the wall the past holiday season where I usually would work one or two days to help out with the rush, this year there was no rush, therefore no need for me.

I helped them out however I could though. Even standing behind the counter when someone needed to go to the bathroom or put quarters in the parking meter. I did see Susan Sarandon shopping there as well as Tim Robbins on a different day. Also Julia Roberts and Benjamin Bratt.

The celebrity that stands out for me would be Joey Ramone buying about $100.00 worth of discounted holiday cards the day after Christmas. I didn’t get a chance to see Robert Plant shopping there a few months ago. I did alert Gawker Stalker on that celebrity sighting of Percy but they ignored that as well as other postings I sent them, so I don’t read Gawker anymore.

So it’s sad to see some friends business go belly up. I don’t know what’s in the works for Susan and Lois and I don’t think they know either. I do wish them well and I plan on visiting them soon enough before the end and before it turns into the hot spot to buy some authentic cruddy Goth shoes and boots which seems to be in the works.

Susan and Lois were at my 40th birthday surprise party that Bill threw 6 years ago at Rand and Lisa’s apartment. I wonder if Susan figured out her digital camera yet…

In other news, I have been home for an hour, heater is on, no carbon monoxide detectors going off. My brother Brian called me, a bit alarmed at the CO problems. CO meaning Carbon Monoxide, not Corrections Officer. That’s Pedro’s department and he doesn’t care. Great to hear from Brian despite the messed up news he had to say. And that’s all I have to say on that.

Man in the Street

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It’s Tuesday again and it’s not my fault. I did everything in my power to make it Thursday but obviously that didn’t go as planned. My carbon monoxide detectors kept going off last night. It seems if I come home and turn on the heater to medium it sets those buggers off.

So for most of the evening I was sitting in the apartment with the windows open, heaters off and wearing layers as opposed to the single thong I usually wear when I write. Yes butt floss does a writer good. And I keep checking to see if I am red in the face since Harpy hipped me to the fact that carbon monoxide poisoning can be seen when you’re looking beet red.

Visions of Vitas Gerulaitis pass through my consciousness. The late tennis pro died of carbon monoxide poisoning a while back while living in the Hamptons. The detectors haven’t gone off so far and the heaters are on at a minimum.

Obviously I am still alive though by this writing sometimes one can’t tell.

One the bus home today I was reading Sarah Vowell, The Wordy Shipmates and of course it’s very funny but despite me chuckling to myself I could barely keep my eyes open.

That may have been from the errand I had to do taking me from 49th Street and Third Avenue to 56th Street and Seventh Avenue. Right by the Carnegie Club, a posh cigar bar that I have been to a number of times.

Fortunately it wasn’t open.

I say fortunately since I usually bring my own cigars and they charge you $10.00 if you are not going to purchase one of their over priced cigars. It is a good spot though, drinks a bit pricey. It’s best to stick to beer, I’ve found.

Actually what’s best is to go on a company credit card. It’s where I had my going away party when I left Putnam Lovell NBF, I mean, Wanker Banker. Oddly enough I only had one cigar that evening which kept going out due to the fact that I was so chatty that night with everyone wishing me well.

Little did they or I know that where I was going, Wolff Olins, I mean, McMann and Tate was the proverbial fire underneath the frying pan.

I much prefer the Cigar Inn where I’ve been the past two Fridays with Steve the former coworker. You do have to buy your cigars there but you can also bring in your own libation. I don’t know if we’re doing it again this week, neither one of us has brought up the subject.

I walked around listening to the Story of Jamaican Music on the iPod Alexander Lopez got for me over the holidays. After writing about the Jamaican music last night I decided to load them into my iPods.

I listened to all of that so much that I know all of the words and I found myself singing along as I walked through midtown.

It was almost ironic since I saw a messenger walking along rapping along to whatever it was he was listening to while he was doing his errands and I thought it was odd.

But singing about how the train is coming is a lot different than saying ‘I’m gonna shoot that mutha fucka in the fuckin face’.

Wouldn’t you agree?