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.

Your Eyes

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I’m pretty tired. Pounding the pavement today. It actually went well. Walked from the Path train to 40 Wall Street, where I took the elevators to the Third and Fourth Floors.

It wasn’t the dank hole I expected it to be and I didn’t see any dank holes like I expected to see. I don’t know why the Susquehanna Investment Group has such a bad reputation.

You might think that a privately held global investment, trading and technology firm servicing securities markets worldwide would have their slack cut for them but apparently that’s not so.

Arthur Dantchik, Jeff Yass, Steve Bloom, Eric Brooks, Andrew Frost and Joel Greenberg all sent their warmest greetings and regards. Yass and Dantchik are a pair of regular jokers, with the knock knock jokes and other Pennsylvania humor.

They seemed like good guys though behind closed doors, the refrain of ‘watch the teeth, watch the teeth’ did raise some eyebrows. I didn’t stay too long, just long enough to make my presence known. Susquehanna Investment Group certainly gets it’s name in the news often enough, oddly though it doesn’t involve insider trading, at least not yet.

Soon I was on my way to Broad Street, to Barclay Rex. Nice situation, Wall Street area, good looking men in their suits and ties. I’d be happy to be one of them should the need arise. I had a good meeting with the manager and the assistant manager.

Never had a meeting before where I was offered a cigar. Of course I said yes and sat there smoking a cigar and answering questions. I answered honestly and truthfully and that seemed to be what they wanted to hear.

No trying to figure out what that might be, just saying it and them looking a bit amazed at my responses. After about an hour our meeting was over. They said I could sit there and finish the cigar so that’s what I did.

Walked over to the train and headed uptown. Saw David Allen Grier on the street as I made my way to see Bill. Also took a look at a spot where Tariq said he sometimes plays for the tourist dollar but the only people besides tourists were sketch artists.

It was good to see Bill. He’s so supportive, saying things about how good I looked and really happy to hear that the meeting went so well. I was certainly glad to be able to tell him some good news for a change, especially after me being a bit gloomy the past couple of days.

We walked over to Godiva where Bill bought a bag of dark chocolate truffles for me. They were almost as sweet as Bill. Walked over to Macy’s after that. They’re having a sale on eyeglasses so I checked them out. Of course the frames on sale were crap, and not my style.

I did see some nice ones that were more expensive and maybe the insurance will cover them somewhat. Despite all the care I put into the eyeglasses I have now, somehow they’ve wound up scratched. And I rarely used paper to clean the lenses, always used the special cloths that were recommended.

Maybe I’m paranoid but one of the last times I was at Cohen’s Optical and had them fix a screw, I could swear they were given back to me more scratched than they were originally. Another meeting is scheduled for next week and Bill suggests I wear the exact same thing for my ‘call back’. Seems like a novel idea.

In that case, I had better get the shirt and tie to the cleaners forthwith!

Forsooth!

That's my Bill

That's my Bill


Me, smoking 'their' cigar

Me, smoking 'their' cigar

No New Tale to Tell

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Wednesday. For some it’s hump day. However, for a lot of people it’s just Wednesday. It’s been an alright day. Not too cold, not too warm. Of course it could always be better.

Not much to write about I’m afraid. Is there ever much to write about? Is it all just gathering threads and trying to join them up, sew them together and make a nice fabric out of it? Is it the fabric that matters? Or is it the sewing?

These are the matters that spring from my mind and travel to my fingertips.

Listening to an interview with Brian Eno, something from about 20 years ago I think, rebroadcast on a Minnesota radio station on a show called Speaking of Music. It’s about a 2 hour interview, basically reviewing Brian Eno’s work and life up to that point.

Eno has a nice voice to listen to and since it’s an old tape that was digitized and playing on my Frankenstein computer occasionally a glitch pops up and Eno goes ‘Hmm Hmm Hmm Hmm’ for a few extra seconds.

It seems to be recorded live in an auditorium before an audience of Eno-philes, laughing at just about everything Eno has to say.

I’ve taken to listening to podcasts while I eat dinner instead of the news. Usually I watch the Ed Show at 6:00 but since the Olympics are on, I’ve listened to discussions. It’s a nice change of space.

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Eno when I worked at Skyline Studios. I remember reading an interview with Eno in Trouser Press, and the wrote about how Eno would tear off the filter of his cigarettes and smoke the unfiltered bits, and there it was, an ashtray with torn off filters.

He was working with Laurie Anderson at the time and both were incredibly nice. Both of them signed records that I asked them to sign and occasionally when money is tight, I look at the Eno records and wonder how much money I could get for them.

I’m sure he wouldn’t mind and definitely would understand the situation that I would find myself in. But I haven’t gone so far as to look into eBay and seeing what I could find there. Perhaps one of these days.

I’ve also caught some Oprah lately. Yesterday I watched people getting makeovers, helped by Carson Kressley from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. I never could understand how people get surprised when they open the door and there is Carson Kressley.

My main problem is the fact that the people are filmed from inside their homes, a camera man a few feet behind them. Do these people have camera men in their living rooms all the time? Wouldn’t they think that something was up, I mean, why is there a cameraman breathing down their necks?

It was the same thing when after the Super Bowl, Bill and I watched a TV show about the CEO of a company working down in the ranks, with the people that inhabit the bottom end of the totem pole. This one guy we watched, worked for a week at different parts of his company.

And all the time, he was followed around by a camera crew. Now if someone was a new person at a company, wouldn’t you think something was up when the newbie would be tailed by a camera crew?

Aren’t any eyebrows raised?
No yellow cards?

It’s easy to overlook the camera crews for most, but obviously not for me.

Today on Oprah was the son of Jim Jones, named Jim Jones Jr. He was in Guyana when the People’s Temple were killed or committed mass suicide.

He would have been in Jonestown when it all went down, but was instead in Georgetown playing basketball which in effect saved his life, but made him feel guilty and never played basketball until years later when his son was on a school team.

The other guest was the sister of John Wayne Gacy. She of course had her own tale to tell, about how she didn’t believe that her brother killed 33 men and boys up to a point, but eventually had to admit it to herself.

I’m just grateful that my nearest and dearest aren’t sociopaths.

Hello to Sao Paulo, Mission Viejo, Warwick, Chiang Mai, Eureka, Petaling Jaya and of course Bala Cynwyd.