The Occupied Gents
TURN IT UP

Dream about running into 3 people who looked like Woody Harrelson, including a woman. I asked if they were related to Woody Harrelson, and they gave me a dirty look. I told them to remind him he owed me $3.00. One of them was walking on amputated legs.

Another dream where Firestone, Good Year, and other rubber moguls were finding out about rubber. It may have been the mid 1800s, and they were in trees hearing about rubber for the first time

This seems to be a morning where the routine solidifies, and I just have to follow wherever my feet are leading me. I have no idea how I got here, but here I am.

Names that have popped into my head this morning.

Tommy King.
Tommy King was a nice guy. A bit of a marshmallow. Would never hurt a fly.
I met him through Julio and Damian. He was their friend from when they were running around the streets of Hoboken back in the day. When I moved to Weehawken, Tommy was living with his father around the block from me.

We had a couple of nights around Jane Street, smoking weed, hanging out and listening to music. After 11 years on Jane Street, I moved back to Hoboken. I only saw Tommy once again; he was living elsewhere and doing handyman work. Julio told me that Tommy passed away after hanging out with a bad crowd. Julio was greatly upset. When I walk down Garden Street I pass by where I last saw him and think of Tommy King.

Fred Ince. Another nice guy. He looked out for me. We worked together at a bookstore on West Broadway. He was into photography and was hoping to be an assistant to a well-known name. I learned a lot about photography from Fred. When I left the bookstore and wound up at Skyline Studios, he showed up one day, so happy to see where I landed and advised me not to fuck it up.

Fred did like some harder substances than me and I sadly believe they might have been the end of Fred’s story. I’ve looked online but came up short. When I picture Fred, I picture Henry Lewis Gates for some reason.

Rae Guay. She was a sweetheart who believed I was intelligent. I stupidly called her vapid one night, not knowing the proper definition of the word, and saw that I had cut her badly with that remark.

My ignorance was hurtful enough to never see or hear from her again, though I have tried, perhaps half-heartedly, through this here blog. I’d love to speak with her again, she was positive and supportive, whereas I was an idiot know nothing, and I still am.

NOw it is Friday night. Mike is here on the couch listening to Bill’s stories. I sit with my back to them, typing an entry for this here blog. All is well and they’re netertained.