Monthly Archives: March 2009

You Can’t Catch Me

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Well it was back to Southampton today, boarding the White Star Line for the HMS Titanic. Deck chairs all in in disarray. Someone needs to tidy them up, put them in their proper places and it might as well be me.

They have told me that I will have this job until next March, but of course there could always be an iceberg between now and then, between here and there. Today was nothing extraordinary. I was alive, which was a good thing (depending on who you talk to) I guess.

Bill was up before me, and he bellowed that it was 6:45 and his bellowing was more effective than an alarm clock. I shuffled past Bill as he gussied himself up in the mirror, and jumped into the shower. I was out in time to kiss him good bye.

He reminded me he has a sleep apnea test tomorrow night so he won’t be around. It’s a sleep over thing. My brother Frank did it last week and he complained how uncomfortable it was.

I spoke with Frank for an hour this morning which shows how busy I’ve been. There was the usual initial difficulty in connecting but it lasted only about a minute. We talked about a wide range of things. He finds talking to me therapeutic which is fine by me.

We made plans for me to take a train out to Garfield on Friday to play guitars together. I’ll take a train out there, we’ll play and he can drop me off at the train station so I can get back to Hoboken and beat the rush hour. I’m not as intimidated as I used to be.

Playing guitar in front of him was nerve wracking for me at times. A few years ago Bill and I drove out there during the holidays and I brought my guitar. It turned out he wasn’t into playing guitar. I tried showing him a Beatles song that I had taught myself, so proud I was, only to find him saying, that’s not how it goes.

It sounded fine to me. No, I didn’t play the Fmaj7, instead choosing a simple F barre chord. I was discouraged and put the guitar away. Last time this past holiday season I tried it again, with his guitar, played my version of Nick Lowe’s So It Goes, as well as Macca’s Maybe I’m Amazed and he was intrigued enough to suggest getting together and playing sometime.

So I guess that time will be this Friday. Since he had the stroke he hasn’t played that much and I guess he’s itching to play with someone. Even his baby brother. I’m looking forward to it and will bring a few songbooks out.

I reassured him that playing Graham Parker’s Squeezing out Sparks is easy to play since most of the songs are 3 or 4 chords. I’ll even show him some websites that have chords to songs that wouldn’t be in the songbooks.

I took the Path train back to Hoboken this evening, enjoying a Padron on the way. Chuckled out loud on the train as I was reading David Sedaris which probably raised a few eyebrows but I didn’t see them since my nose was buried in the book.

Nice walk back home in the chilly spring air. Saw Stine with Alexander and I was more than glad to help her out by carrying Alexander up to their apartment. Of course I was nervous, ‘don’t drop the baby…careful…now wouldn’t be a good time to fall down’ all running in my head.

Of course I had the camera available and took some shots of Superboy who is now walking, a bit like a drunken sailor, but still- he’s walking. And saying ‘Oooo’ every now and then.

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Me and Superboy

Me and Superboy


Jeezy Creezy- I love this kid!

My Old Man

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Well so far this spring has been nothing but overcast and not that warm. I’m sure things will pick up eventually but so far I haven’t been impressed. Last night after posting I went out again. Not to anywhere in particular just took a stroll down Washington Street smoking a Padron.

No one I knew was out, but then again I never see anyone out. Possibly because they see me first, or possibly because they don’t go out. I walked until the cigar was halfway through, then I turned around and was finished by the time I came home.

It was a nice walk, iPod plugged in, listening to the Bird and the Bee’s latest release. Bill was planning on staying in the city and surprised me when he walked through the door an hour after I got back.

I was in the middle of watching yet another disc of Freaks and Geeks and it’s been enjoyable but by 10:00 I had enough of reliving someone else’s high school memories.

As far as I know my high school memories on celluloid were Square Pegs and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, or at least my high school years were bracketed by the time periods of the aforementioned show and movie.

I guess the class of 1980 just weren’t up to snuff and who can blame them. As far as I’m concerned I was the most interesting person in my class and I was barely noticed. I know that’s a presumptuous statement but then again my father was a presumptuous guy.

I did try watching Mad Men on DVD. Watched a few episodes and still I find it interminable. Once you get past the fact that everyone is smoking and drinking I don’t see any reason to watch it. And I smoke and drink so there’s no novelty there.

I spoke with my brother Brian today and he mentioned that what I wrote the other day about my problems with ‘stupid’ people was just like something my father would have written if my father wrote.

And I had to agree with Brian since as soon as I wrote what I wrote the other day I felt I was turning into my father. And that’s not such a good thing at all.

Disdain for one’s fellow human beings is something my father always had. There was always some shit head on the train or on his way to work, or even Chuck Ferguson my father’s co-worker, who when listening to my father describe him, you would think Chuck Ferguson was king of the shit heads.

Maybe my father was a pretender to the throne. Or the heir apparent.

So that’s something I have to work on. Being understanding, not condescending. It’s not going to be easy I’m sure. I was reminded of a picture taken of me at my niece Meghan’s wedding back in June 2007 and I can easily see myself looking a bit too much like my father.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort with that look of incredulousness.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort with that look of incredulousness.

Not that my father would agree, or even be proud since he wasn’t the most supportive person. But he’s not here and I am so I still have a chance to take this sad song and make it better.

That means stop complaining about the people at the supermarket, stop yelling at the feeble minded helpers at the shoemakers, stop cursing people that pull the door instead of pushing at the bus terminal. No more of feeling an air of superiority.

I was too insecure to pull that off, but when wearing a suit & tie, I do get treated as such. Let karma take care of it. Let karma separate the wheat from the chaff. No sweat off my back.