Category Archives: Abstract Absurdist Otherness

Read it and weep! I’ve published and now, I be damned! There are some diamonds in this coal. Proceed with cautious carelessness.

Voices Carry

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Well I just had a lovely dinner of leftovers. I liked it better the second time around. And who wants to make a big dinner in day five of the heat wave. Now the weather people are saying it’s going to be like this until Tuesday. How enticing.

This upcoming week is the first full five day work week that I’ve had in three weeks. I’m sure I can get through it without much trouble. It’s been too hot to do much of anything except stay indoors most of the day. I get up early, do whatever it is I might have to do, home by 11:00 and then I don’t go out again until about 4:00.

Today that is just what I did. Last night I did the same thing, except for an hour when I sat on my stoop and had a couple of beers. Watched various neighbors come in and out while I read Uncut magazine and smoked a Padron. Then the mosquitoes made themselves known and I came back inside.

I watched the extras on the Joe Strummer dvd and that was about two extra hours. Lot’s of Mick Jones reminiscing with a pint in his hand a heavily lidded eyes. I watched the same way. Lot’s of additional camp fire interviews, mainly about what a good bloke Joe Strummer was. Especially Mick, who was endearing, watching him get a bit misty eyed when going over the old days.

Then I watched Led Zeppelin live which was tiresome since I had seen it a few times already. I went to bed when they got to Knebworth 1979, their last shows. Today I was up early, ran some errands, saw Martin Kelly working at CVS. I told him about the Individuals playing at McSwells on Tuesday and he seemed interested. I have a feeling that he’s not going to remember.

Tried watching Mad Men, a tv show that my brother Frank is mad for. I just can’t get into it. There’s something to it that I find plodding and slow. No likable characters either. I gave it my best shot and watched a few episodes that were being shown in a marathon but I just couldn’t get into it. I tried.

After that I threw in the dvd of Flesh. It says by Andy Warhol but it’s really by Paul Morrissey. Another thing I couldn’t get into. So dated and not even Joe Dallesandro’s cock was enough to maintain my interest. That cock is now 40 years older and the body it’s attached to more than likely doesn’t look the same.

After a few minutes of that I took out the dvd and replaced it with Romance and Cigarettes by John Turturro. Believe it or not, that was even worse. It was odd watching James Gandolfini sing and act as Aida Turturro’s father, as well as Mandy Moore and Mary Louise Parker’s dad. They play the daughters of Gandolfini and Susan Sarandon. It came out in 2005.

Great cast, Christopher Walken, Kate Winslet and Bobby Cannavale. Oh it was terrible. It was so bad that I couldn’t stop watching. It wasn’t bad in a good way, it was just bad.

I finally ejected the disc and watched a documentary on Otis Redding instead. I knew how that ended though. Not good.

Wandered around Hoboken, sticking to the shade. Still hot but right now there’s a nice breeze. Here’s some pics. Stay cool.

The W Hotel in Hoboken. Too big!

The light rail

Jersey City

“In 20 years all this will be underwater”

Cruising

Keepin’ it Gully

Three Minute Hero

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Ahh. A few years ago Bill and I saw a friend of mine have a recital. Dan Moore, the friend had rented out a studio space and had a pianist accompany him as he sang maybe a dozen songs with a couple of stories inter sped throughout. It was a good time, and similar to an idea I had, when I had ideas, that Bill and I dress up and cover Frank Sinatra and Count Basie’s album ‘It Might As Well Be Swing!’ I was to be the singer and Bill was to be the pianist.

I revisited that idea on the way home tonight listening to the forgotten Specials album, ‘In The Studio with the Special AKA’. I was listening to the song Break Down The Door and felt I could sing my own interpretation with Bill’s accompaniment. It could be fun, with a couple of shots under my belt perhaps. Break Down The Door was the B-side on the Specials single, Free Nelson Mandela.

I’ll always remember the night before Mandela was going to be released, I was spinning records at McSwells and I played Free Nelson Mandela. Martin Kelly came over to me and said it was the last time I would have to play that song. It’s still a good song, but a little dated. Oh the Specials have such a spot in my heart.

I found out in the latest issue of Mojo Magazine that the ‘We thought you were inferior’ header above my letter was part of a series of quotations from the movie, Planet of the Apes, not directed at me (see the post titled Ego Tripping Out) . So Mojo doesn’t think I’m inferior which is a weight off of my mind. Apparently that’s what they’re doing now, a line of dialog from a movie posted above each letter published, though that ‘inferior’ line didn’t do much for my self-esteem.

At work with the new people I am busy as ever and I don’t mind at all. It would have been great to have Juan in the office, but money is too tight. I’m doing all the work and finding some ways to get to do my own thing. For instance, I was in touch with the Roundabout Theater Company regarding Sunday in the Park with George and their volunteer usher program. I found out you have to go to the box office and inquire directly.

I planned to go to Studio 54 where it’s being performed at lunch time, but there was a file that needed to be delivered a few blocks away from there so I offered to save the company some money and deliver it myself, enabling me to check out the program at the box office. I go and talk to the proper people and found that all the volunteer slots are filled for the next two weeks, then the play closes.

Oh well.

I admit my ardor had cooled somewhat and I’ll have to be content with renting the dvd from Netflix of the original cast from 1984. I’m sure some volunteers will drop out between now and then, but I won’t have any way of knowing and they’ll have no way to contact me. Plus I don’t feel like lugging around black trousers and a white shirt, or wearing such an outfit, day in and day out for two weeks waiting for that call.

What am I? A stand by waiter?