Last night was quite entertaining with my brother Frank. Unfortunately we inadvertently shut Bill out most of the time. Such constant riffing and free associating can be difficult and not to mention the in jokes. Only Brian or Annemarie would be able to keep the pace, we’re that exclusive. Out of the partners or spouses, Elaine, by default would probably be the one who has the best chance to understanding the four siblings since she’s been married to Frank for ages. 30 years? More? It’s a blur.

Playing a track from REM’s ‘Murmur’. Their first album. Man it takes me back to a trip down to visit my cousins for a family reunion. I am so there in the back seat playing ‘Perfect Circle’ on my brand new Walkman2. Visiting the cousins from my mother’s side. The Bordentown contingent. A lovely and lively bunch.

Bill got up early this morning and did my morning routine of bagels and newspapers. I slept in which was quite nice. Slept rather well. Woke up at my leisure, read the papers, had some eggs. Bill had left to fulfill some familial duties.

Today was ST. Patrick’s Day in Hoboken and remembering from past experiences I knew that the bars and pubs would be full at 11AM. By 3PM there will be lines outside of them. It was a bright and sunny day and cold with a nasty bitter wind. Perfect weather for the Irish to have a parade no? Puerto Ricans have the right idea.

So I bundled up, got the camera, the Ipod and of course a Padron. Wandered around on my own. Last year met up with Rand and Lisa but haven’t heard from them in a while. Are they busy? Jehovah’s Witnesses? Am I on the outs? Is it 4:20?

Now playing ‘Isn’t It A Pity’ by George Harrison. I remember I bought this form Annemarie when I visited Arcata in 2001. Really a great record, lush production. I remember Anne saying she forgot how many great songs are on it. I remember going through Two Guy’s Department Store playing it on my pre boombox tape recorder. Loudly.

Bill just called and he’s babysitting his nephews/cousins. For free. I told him babysitters get PAID. The concept escapes him. Then again the last time I baby-sat, I got paid in food and access to cable TV.

Back to the parade. I found an old friend Gary from McSwells. He was watching the parade with his bud Danny from the prime vantage point of my bus stop. Various commentaries from the three of us as various groupings representing city hall, fire departments from around the area and different bars and pubs with a sprinkling of brand recognition pass us by.

And of course that brand recognition did its job and triggered an appetitive for Guinness. I mentioned this to Gary and Danny who seemed nonplussed at the idea. Could it be I forgot that Gary is a nocturnal drinker? But maybe they just vanted to be alone.

They split when the parade ended and I moseyed over to the Liquor store and bought a four pack of Guinness which I didn’t touch until the sun went down. Some kind of restraint.

here’s some pics

Tired. Long day. Blurry hangover from one too many beers and not enough food. Will I ever learn? Probably not. Not when ‘fun’ is involved. Of course, I didn’t sleep very well. Waking up on every hour on the hour. Out of boredom I woke up at 6, not 6:15. It really was a difference. I was so ahead of time I didn’t know what to do. I had two suits and five shirts and a tie to drop off at the dry cleaners.

I also had some trash and some recycling. I must have looked a sight climbing down the four flights carrying clothes, garbage and empty beer bottles. Thankfully the paparazzi ignored me choosing to camp outside an apartment on the third. Somehow the garbage can wound up three doors down the street. Strike One.

Go to the dry cleaners, throwing the heap of clothes on the counter, telling the nice man behind the counter, one tie, two suits five shirts. Then I noticed I was missing a pair of trousers. Not good. I ran out of the store looking to see if the errant pair of pants lay on the sidewalk. Nope. Hopefully I didn’t put them in the trash, maybe I left them in the apartment.

I didn’t have time to run back up four flights of stairs to check. Strike two. Make it up to Washington St. As I cross against the light standing on the double line the bus pulls up. I make it to the side of the bus as it starts pulling away and I’m banging the side yelling for the driver to stop. He does and I pay my fare and stumble towards the seat. Two stops later the seat in front of me gets occupied with the occupier deciding to recline into my knees. Strike three.

Make it work, needing food badly. It promised to be busy and I needed to eat. Got an egg sandwich at the deli next to work. Took forever to get it and I proceeded to meltdown. It definitely helped having something to eat. The temp arrived. Nice guy. Matt. Sings in a Cabaret show at Don’t Tell Mama. Twenty something looking like Elliot from E.T. and I mean that as a compliment.

Somehow I got through the day, eating whenever I can. And keeping hydrated. I was busy running around and showing Matt the ropes. He was a quick learner and I trusted in him correctly to carry his load. And he did so admirably. I told him I was going to try to see his show at Don’t Tell Mama.

I did tell Jamie about Matt’s upcoming show and she said she’d try to make it with me. Should be fun. She told me they had the goods on the Persian Bitch and soon the ax will fall. I told her I’d believe it when I see it. Tomorrow may be the day that bitch will be out of my fucking life forever. That would be soooooo sweet.

Would be nice if we got rid of Humpty Debbie, but sometimes you have to take the good with the big fat bad.

My appreciation for Pop Art continues…