When I woke up this morning it was face to face with Bill who confessed that he was embarrassed by his inability to talk about certain issues. He was able to communicate that at least. We both agreed that he should see Philip without me at least once. After that little talk it was a near routine Saturday morning. I had my usual cup of coffee before I ventured out into the world.

I hit the street and saw my barber Tony, who I called Nick. He was walking around and I asked him if he was working. He said yes but was taking a break and if I wanted a haircut. I did and he started walking with me to the barbershop, past the guys waiting for a haircut from the other two and sat in Tony’s chair. Seeing the name Tony embroidered on the (bib? smock? lab coat?) made me realize his name wasn’t Nick. Who’s Nick anyway? Nick Lattanzio? Lemon Curry?

My hair is short enough to make me look like my next stop was Fallujah. Got some bagels for myself and then walked to the A&P for eggs. Fairly empty, Hoboken once again empties out on a weekend during the summer no matter the weather and this weather was dismal at best. That meant with the raining all day, my clothes should take quite a while to dry, hanging out to dry in the kitchen and bathroom. Luckily I have way too many clothes and felt an urge to get some new summer shirts on Bergenline Ave. in Union City.

I walked to the Path train in the occasional drizzle. I walked by the haircutting salon where Kathe works. She came out and I gave her a smoke and we talked when up walks an old friend, Eddie, from McSwells days with his wife Valki and their two sons who are gigantic, considering the boys are 4 months and two years. They had just gotten to Hoboken from the Light Rail, which I was about to ride. That was an adventure I was looking forward to.

The Light Rail is an experience. I enjoy it. It’s like a monorail, but it has more than one rail so scratch that. You have to buy a ticket and get it validated by a machine before you get on the train, but no one ever checks for your ticket. I have heard of people getting busted for riding for free, but never actually seen it happen. The train goes into a formerly disused train tunnel built into the base of the Palisades. One moment I was looking at the modern Stonehenge of Manhattan, the next I was hurtling down a tunnel lit by orange street lamps.

Got off at Bergenline and walked to the elevator which whisked me up to street level and I got out into a monsoon. I broke out the umbrella and walked down Bergenline checking out various stores for summer shirts and found a good selection, even a few Guyabera shirts, which are great to chill out in. No wonder all the old men wear them. They’re chillin’.

I walked to the store where Juan was working in his (bib? smock? lab coat?) and saw a certain someone that a certain photo technician has his eye on. Not my type, especially after walking up and down Bergenline looking at all the hot men in all different shapes, sizes and colors. Most of them looked at me and wondered why Drew Carey was shopping on Bergenline. Juan was working and couldn’t really chit chat since the local Gestapo was crawling up his butt. I didn’t want to get him in trouble so I split. Back down to the light rail where to my chagrin there were three uniformed police officers checking to see if my ticket was validated. Mine was and I was allowed to pass. I noticed there were sculptures hanging from the ceiling of the station. Dinosaurs and astronauts and meteors and a space capsule. I asked the officers if I could take some pictures of the sculptures.

They said yes but needed to see some identification first. So I gave them my ID and started taking some snapshots. They thanked me for showing them the ID, and I said you’re welcome. I suppose the only other people that would take pictures are terrorists and train spotters. I’m in good company.

and here’s some pics

Today was Stine’s birthday and Rocky’s birthday. Kudos to both of them for making it thus far. More about them later. Slept well, slept later than usual. Not too much of a hustle. It was humid inside and out. No mater what I wore I would sweat in it. I had an extra T-shirt at the office so I was set for a change when I arrived. I got to the office, a little after 8AM, surprised to see Felicia waiting for the elevator.

She of course had gone out last night and hadn’t really slept. She’s so much easier to deal with coming off the previous night’s escapade. We had some fairly big wigs coming in this morning and she showed up to help set up. She also wouldn’t have to work a full day since the office was closing early this afternoon. She reminds me a bit of Amanda Plummer and Rachel Griffith, with maybe a touch of Drew Barrymore’s promiscuous teenage years. It’s so much easier to break things down using Hollywood stars.

The workday, being so short flew by. I found time for my usual salad with broccoli and chicken and Thousand Island dressing. Before I knew it I was on the 1 train headed to Columbus Circle. So many cuties out today. A direct connection with the weather and sexiness. Where are they during the winter months? And I’m talking both male and female species. In Manhattan there was a cute man about every five feet or so. Thankfully I was feeling good Vis a Vis the neck so there was no problem looking at the head turners.

Then I went to the chiropractor. The city was emptying out due to it being a holiday weekend. That meant most of the people on the sidewalks were tourists and sailors in town for Fleet Week. And none of them know how to walk in New York City. I made it to the doctor’s office without injuring anyone and immediately was laying face down drooling on tissue paper. Once again, she pulled and rubbed and stretched and yanked. It was over rather quickly leaving me to think that she too was heading out of town.

The odd thing is, I left feeling worse than I did before. Not as severe as a few days ago, but a noticeable discomfort. I had 2 and a half hours to kill and hit some of my old haunts, Davidoff Cigars on 54th and Madison and Concord Chemists to get some bitter nail enamel. Nail biting habit you see. Been doing it all my life. I told Juan of my plan to do something about that the other night. Pseud-intense.

Wound up in Bryant Park and read the New Yorker. I do enjoy that park very much. Some good memories had a Padron and started walking up to the rendezvous with Dr. Beansprout. Wandered around the old neighborhood where I worked, hoping to say hello to Walter the UPS guy. Nice guy, a real sweetheart. I hope he’s doing well. He wasn’t around. His truck was but I didn’t want to appear as a UPS groupie. I wandered over to Philip’s office and waited in the lobby.

Philip arrived soon enough and we had a very productive session. We both agreed to get more open in our sessions and Bill needs to be a part of it. I reiterated the fact that Bill and I are opposite in many ways and have had very separate, individual experiences. We don’t have much in common. But what we do have in common is for lack of a better word, intense.

I do love him so.

After the session I walked down Fifth Avenue to the Path, having another Padron. I felt good. The time on the couch relieved some of the neck pain. I decided to forgo Rocky’s party. I just wanted to get back home. Wasn’t much in the mood to hang out in a bar. I was going to call him and tell him I wasn’t going, and then I remembered a line from a Dylan song that made sense once again.

‘If you can’t bring good news, don’t bring anything.’

I got back to Hoboken and called Julio and he asked me to pick up a cake for Stine’s birthday. It was on the way and he is two floors below me. I went down there and had a few Danish beers and some fantastic cake from Stone Cold Creamery.

Bill’s been driving a group of Spanish Nationals today, and will be doing the same all weekend. He should be home soon. I’m going to bed in a few.

Good night.