Monthly Archives: September 2012

I Need U Bad

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Another weird weather day. Up earlier than usual and out later than that, I was intending to do some busking. It was quite cool out and there were plenty of dark clouds threatening rain. I ran some errands including a stop at Solid Threads, a T-Shirt shop in Hoboken. Rand and Lisa got me a Jersey Fresh T-Shirt for my birthday and it seemed to be a size too small. I had a gift receipt which allowed for a hassle free transaction. There were other shirts I could have chosen from but I stuck with the original Jersey fresh plan.

From there I walked up First Street and walked over to the river. No buskers around, all quiet on the waterfront. I sat and read the Village Voice since I had nothing else to read. There was an interesting article about Fracking and how big business is doing whatever it wants, including fucking up the environment with polluted water and land. And then there is the nasty problem of natural gas being released through water lines, so if you turn on your faucet and no water comes out but gas does a simple spark can blow your house as well as your neighborhood to bits.

Why they don’t research solar power or wind power is beyond me. An inexhaustible supply is there ready to be used. It’s clean and would provide a lot of jobs, but instead we just concentrate on getting more oil from the ground and polluting the air with emissions. This is where a mash up of The Road Warrior and Koyaanisqatsi would make a lot of sense. Living on the top floor of a five story building I can tell you, there is a lot of wind out there. And some of you reading this can probably say there is a lot of wind here.

Back indoors I was surprised to see a friend from Murdoch daze on Facebook. Ulysses Sankitts, my old friend who saved my ass a few times has made it online. I will never forget the first time I met Ulysses, I started working for Murdoch Magazines a day before him. A friend from Maxwells was getting married that weekend and I was asked to DJ. Alas I had no equipment and the wedding day was just a few days away. I didn’t know what to do but I did know Ulysses and his brother Tony were also DJ’s.

So I asked this relative stranger if I could borrow his equipment, I would even give him my fee in exchange for the use of his turntables and PA. To my delight (and surprise) he said yes. That Sunday Ulysses and Tony arrived and delivered their gear and even set it up since I didn’t not know how to do that. It must have been 1987 since I remember playing Prince’s ‘It’ a few times at the reception. Twenty five years ago and here we are friends again thanks to Facebook.

We always were friends though, it’s not like I never saw him again. We became good friends, I crashed at his house out in Queens, partied with him at several clubs and he made a few appearances at parties that I had thrown, including the infamous basement party that must have had fifty people there, with party crashers. He seemed to get a kick out of my friends as did his brother Tony. Anyway he seemed just as happy to find me on Facebook as I was to find him. That Queens posse of Excer, Ray, Pedro and Ulysses is still around. Tony unfortunately passed away early in the century.




It wasn’t all grey…


Runaway Boys

I Need To Wake Up

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Less than two months until the presidential election and already I have had it up to here! I do like to be informed but all day long it is regurgitation over and over. Different mouths, same spew. I’ve gotten better with dealing with it, so much so I can tell you all about Greta Garbo or John Garfield since I’ve been watching Turner Classic Movies instead of the information channels. I don’t want to call it news, so information is what I will call it, for now. Greta Garbo sure was a looker though, and John Garfield good at being that everyman with a problem.

It’s a beautiful day today, after the raging storm last night. Bill called from the cigar shop near the Path train. He was on his way home and found the exit stairs blocked by people overwhelmed by the downpour. Bill was able to make it out, only getting about as far as maybe 20 yards and winding up cozy inside the shop. He called me, telling me of his whereabouts and asking if there was anything I needed from the store, if and when he made it out. About an hour later he was walking through the door, soaked.

Today marks a week since my birthday. It’s been an interesting time since then. Has my mind changed? Has my body changed? Would it change just because of a day? No, not really is the answer for all three. I am more aware of the time and space I occupy, perhaps a little bit more than I did weeks ago. And I am so grateful for Bill. Such a rock in my life, steadfast and true, and willing to go to the supermarket in the middle of a monsoon. I am amazed by him so often.

I am a week behind in my reading of the New Yorker and have barely cracked the latest Mojo Magazine. Just been waylaid by current events I suppose. I do have the time to catch up, just easily distracted by the television and the internet. All it takes is a click and the problem is solved. Still getting the nerve to actually use that click can be an obstacle. Now the television is off, but of course the computer is still on obviously since I am currently writing this bit of fluff. Soon the autumnal equinox will be upon us.

I had a phone call today, from a company that strung me along through three interviews a year or so ago. Each interview went well until the last one where some hyper caffeinated character named John Hunt fobbed me off on someone they had hired the previous week. I told them I needed to be out of there by 11:00 so I could make it to the cigar shack and here I was in a conference room at 11 Penn Plaza at 11:15 being asked questions by a newbie. I was a bit irate at this turn of events since I abhor being late.

And that included being late for a job that I didn’t particularly care for. They woman on the phone had a southern accent and she asked me a few questions, mainly why did I leave the cigar shack. I explained that it was due to slow sales, even though some people have told me the ‘official’ line from the cigar shack is that I left to do ‘officey’ things. What actually got me off the hook with the southern accented woman was when I told her what I was looking for salary wise, meaning what was I making at the cigar shack.

Apparently I had priced myself out of their game.


Making Plans for Nigel