A lazy Sunday. What makes this? The fourth this month, third if you don’t count New Years Day. The weather has been hospitable, sunny, and not too cold. Not 60 degrees like yesterday, more like 40 something. Like me! Had lunch with Julio at the greasy spoon, last of the greasy spoons actually, The Spa Restaurant, located on Hudson by the Path Station.

With Starbucks around the corner and a for sale sign on the side of the building I fear that time is running short for the Spa. Had a decent Tuna Sandwich, Julio reminiscing about the chicken salad he had in Copenhagen. Not the same chicken salad in Hoboken. His tears made the chicken salad that much more salty.

I paid no mind and ate French fries off his plate. Oh how that man loves Danish Chicken Salad. We wandered around Hoboken, passing dozens of football fans yelling on the street hoping the Steelers would win. Or the other guys. We walked around Pier A taking more pics with our digital cameras.

Bill stayed home. He looked great. Not exactly at 100% yet but he’s on his way back. He’s going to work tomorrow and on Thursday I am supposed to meet him and his coworkers at an after work affair. That should be fun. I will definitely dress to impress.

It’s been a mellow weekend. Mellow and repetitive, which is fine by me. As with the previous two entries, Julio and Bill sit on the couch watching TV as I sit and type.

I’ve been trying to send Lewis Lapham a note, or rather an email thanking him for lighting the fire under my ass and getting me inspired enough to write this everyday.
I don’t know if he’d be able to receive email at Harper’s now that he’s no longer editor in chief.

I will have to look into that this week.

I was just trying to download the Colin Farrell sex tape but all I could get was ads for girl on girl Sapphic desires. That got Julio’s attention. That Colin, such a bad boy and rumored to be distractingly hung. Colin and myself disprove the Irish myth. Or at least I know I do.

And now a discussion with Julio about the amount of words that I write. He asked if I wrote 499 or 498 words what would I do? I told him it would give me an opportunity to think things out a bit and perhaps stretch something here or there. He didn’t see the point of that. I think he was saying that I would be fine with 498 or so.

I told him it was the discipline of writing the 500 words, and also that I hardly ever count the words until well after 500. He was pushing being concise about what I write, not going off on tangents. Nice sentiment, but it might actually mean more if he actually read the blog.

Perhaps if he started a blog I’d be able to see how it should be done.

Friday night, watching The Day After Tomorrow with Bill and Julio. Wine has been imbibed, Pizza has been ingested and a jazz cigarette consumed. Laughter ensues, despite the serious message of the movie. It’s a nice night. Good times, fuzzy edges. All rather pleasant.

The working day was book ended by weirdness. Mercury in retrograde type of cosmic thang. The Osama Bin Laden tape was all the rage the past few days so memories of panic and fear started to register on a low level. Just when you start to think everything is going all right, whammo.

I made it to the bus after a short jog to catch it and settled into my usual spot right above the left rear wheel well. Quite roomy. I take the aisle and gladly offer the window to anyone who would like it. Very few opt for it and I occasionally offer it to people, but there are few takers. Which makes my ride that much more comfortable.

Read the New Yorker, and got through the tunnel and then sat on the ramp for about 15 minutes. No buses were moving in or out. Everything was totally stopped.

Bus Jam.

Eventually everyone was let off their buses, hundreds of people at 7:40 in the morning all staggering up the ramp into the terminal or onto the street. I have a partner who knows things about the buses and traffic, and also was sitting in front of the TV when I called. A bus had broken down in one of the tunnels and caused an immediate freeze on the system, so it wasn’t a terrorist act like originally thought by me.

Osama Bin Boogieman, you did it again. But the over saturation of the media played a heavy role as well, perhaps surpassing Bin Bong in the long run. Or maybe it could be an exercise in fear, perpetrated by the knobs in DC.

Work was relatively painless with a glimmering of lower case hope. Don’t get me wrong, the right job comes along and I am outta there. And that was recognized by Jamie. She says she’s really pushing for me to be the office manager, and I believe her, but I really believe, it ain’t gonna happen.

I’ve grown accustomed to flying under the radar. I know, it seems weird, but I really have no other options at this moment. When life gives you lemons, throw lemons at life. And a raspberry or two. And at work I was able to leave and drop off bagels, muffins and fruit at St. Bart’s Food kitchen.

Talked to my brother Frank who lectured me about cigars while reminiscing about seeing Talking Heads in Central Park in 1980. An excellent magical show on a warm summer night at the Wollman Rink. It was so fantastic and I remember very little of it besides being overwhelmed. It was the first time I had ever seen them and there were 9 or 10 people on stage.

It was very groove oriented and every one, and I mean everyone was dancing. He moaned about my smoking cigars. I really love smoking cigars. A treat at the end of my day. I don’t know what he does at the end of his day. I don’t think his as stressful as mine. At least, work wise.

And as always, I left work and had a cigar that I enjoyed greatly. Walked to 30th street and got to the PATH station where there were no trains going to Hoboken. Lots of people on the platform, and in the cars with the doors open, but no one was going to Hoboken.

Osama Bin At it Again? Signal problems. I could relate. I overheard a plan to take a Journal Square train and get off at the first stop and catch the light rail back to Bokeyland. It was a surefire plan and it worked. Lot’s of bewilderment among the people who had never taken the light rail. I told one of them to just follow the crowd to the station.

Made it home, picked up some ginger root for Bill and wound up watching the Day After Tomorrow with Bill and Julio.

And people should boycott Ocean County NJ if they don’t approve the $13,000 pension from Laurel Hester to Stacie Andree, her domestic partner. Laurel is dying after serving as an investigator for Ocean County PD and would like her partner Stacie to receive the widow’s pension. This has been denied by Ocean County freeholders. More at the link below.

http://gfn.com/channelArticle.cfm?channelDesRecordID=151