Another day, another donut. It’s a Tuesday. So far, everything is going nicely, so good. I am listening to an XTC playlist. I saw them twice with my brother Frank. He adored them; I liked them. We saw them at the Capitol Theater in Passaic, NJ, and a week later at the Palladium on 14th Street in Manhattan, just a block or two from where I am right now.

The Palladium is gone, the Capitol Theatre is gone, and Frank is also gone. The first week we saw the entire bill, Jools Holland, Joan Jett and XTC. Jools Holland, while talented, was not my cup of tea. Joan Jett, though a few of my friends liked her a lot, I was not one of them. And I did not like the Runaways either.

I sat in the fifth row, Frank and Elaine in the fourth row directly in front, and we suffered through ‘I Love Rock & Roll’. XTC were brilliant and I just heard Roads Girdle the Globe in the playlist, and I always picture Frank in my head being so into it. I am not sure if Elaine had the same enthusiasm; it seems unlikely. She was a team player, though.

The next week the same lineup was playing the Palladium in Manhattan, and Frank and I had seats together as well as the brains to avoid the opening acts and arrive in time for XTC. Tickets were bought for the next tour a year later but that was not going to happen, what with Andy Partridge having a nervous breakdown or valium withdrawal or a combination of the two.

And thus ended the touring years of XTC. I was happy to have seen them twice. Frank saw them a year before at the Ritz, but I was preoccupied and Frank did not ask me though I was the one who turned him onto XTC. And Frank no longer with us, I can write it as history. Very McCartney-esque of me, if I do say so myself.

At the fruit stand there was a kerfuffle. There was a UK Hip Hop singer that came in with an entourage. They were fine but they brought their equipment back and forth in a passenger elevator ignoring the freight elevators which are there for that exact reason.

The superintendent of the building where the fruit stand is supposedly had words with one of the entourage and his feelings were hurt, though the lobby security said nothing like that happened and the superintendent is a bit of a drama queen. It added a layer of uncomfortableness over the rest of the afternoon.

I left on time and caught the Path train which was not as crowded as it had been lately and there were no ample bosoms to brush against, much to my relief. I walked up Washington Street and heard someone call my name.

It was Jason Stasium with whom I worked with for a few years in the nineties. Jason is a genuine good guy and we chatted as we strolled up the boulevard, promising once again to meet up for a coffee and a chat since neither one of us are drinkers these days. He was off to see one of his kids perform in a school concert, and I went off to vote in the primary.