It’s been a pretty good day so far. Hopefully I am not rushing things. I didn’t sleep that well last night and neither did Bill. Lots of tossing and turning, no funny stuff on our end. Bill was up and out at 6:30. I know that because I asked him what time it was when he was leaving after kissing me goodbye.

I was out of bed a while later, puttering around and doing my usual breakfast routine. Soon I was on the street and headed to the bibliothèque to pick up the special edition of what may be David Bowie’s finest work, Station to Station, the album he doesn’t remember making, so strung out on cocaine he was reported to be.

And it’s a fantastic six song selection. The special edition is remastered from analogue tapes and also has two extra discs of a live show from the Nassau Coliseum in 1976, which is also supposed to be one of his finest sets.

After the bibliothèque, I made my way to the bus stop, once again letting the 10:15 bus go by as I waited for the 10:30 so I could finish the cigar I had started last night. At the next stop my neighbor from the fourth floor came aboard, as she’s been doing frequently the past couple of weeks.

She told me that she saw Bill’s video on YouTube and was very impressed. I gave her the rundown of how it was behind the scenes. Then somehow we got onto the subject of meeting celebrities.

I told her my David Bowie stories, my Mick Jones of the Clash story and how I would keep an eye out for Paul McCartney, occasionally walking by his lawyer’s offices, Eastman & Eastman on my way to work some mornings.

Of course I never met Macca, you would have probably heard my scream if I did. I told her of meeting Davey Johnstone from the Elton John band a few years ago and Deborah told me of seeing Elton on the street a week or so ago.

We also discussed Bruce at length, I told her of my brother and sister in law’s story of the night at the Bottom Line and how years later my brother Frank and I inquired about purchasing a copy of the photograph, which was described by the Bottom Line staffer, ‘The one where Bruce is eating out that chick’.

To which Frank replied ‘Hey that’s my wife’. Needless to say we did not buy the photograph. It did turn up in a Dave Marsh book years later, Bruce’s ass sticking in the air and my sister in law Elaine with a look of near orgasmic ecstasy on her face.

We got to the bus terminal and Deborah went her way and I went mine. I made my way to the cigar shack area, getting a coffee and picking up the latest Uncut magazine, I picked up Mojo earlier in the week.

As I neared the cigar shack I was talking to Bill on the phone and I passed someone who looked familiar. I asked Bill to hold on a second and then said loud enough for the familiar guy to hear me say, ‘Abe’. The guy stopped and it was Abe Laboriel Jr., the drummer for Paul McCartney.

Super nice guy, we shook hands and chatted and he posed for a picture with me. He also told me that he and Paul and the band were off to Peru tomorrow. We parted ways and I told him to keep rockin’ and he replied that he would try.

It’s been a pretty good day I think.

Abe Laboriel Jr & some geezer