Category Archives: Hopelessly banal with a heaping slathering of ennui

Hail Satin

1 Reply

Another Monday. Yesterday was yet another washout of a Sunday. The rain ended at some point last night when the sun had set. Mike was over and that was fun. Some in depth soul searching conversation occured. I also helped him with his laundry. I washed, he hung out to dry.

I had a dream before waking. I was walking to Maxwell’s and ran into Maurice Menares on the sidewalk outside. We both went in and things were just as they were 36 years ago. I lingered at the front bar for a minute before heading into the kitchen looking for Steve Fallon who was jokingly trying not to be found. He was talking to Maurice by the shelves where things were settled and sweated.

Then I found Julio at the back bar using a new type of register which was supposed to be cutting edge, or at least that is what Julio told me. The alarm went off soon after that and I stumbled out of bed before the sun had arisen. Lucifer bearer of light was a bit tardy this morning.

It’s Columbus Day or more succinctly, Indigenous Peoples Day. That makes more sense. It was was a plot line on the Sopranos back in the day. The indignity of the Italian Americans, upset that Christopher Columbus was vilified for his crimes against humanity. I was brought up being taught that Columbus was a hero when in actuality he was a genocidal maniac with the backing of the Spanish monarchy as well as the blessing of the Roman Catholic Church.

I saw a show at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in the 1980s with my brother Frank that had a segment about Columbus discovering the new world. It was possibly the first time I came across that line of thought, that Columbus was a bad guy. Years later, reading Howard Zinn, it was set in stone, at least in my mind.

Listening to the Slits right now. I think Dave Bell turned me onto them. Jimmy Chile heard a bit of them for the first time and liked what he heard. It reminded me of Laszlo Papp, or more specifically a girl he used to like; in what sense, I do not know but he was somewhat smitten. I think her name was Nanette, or it might have been Babette.

She was probably my age but far more worldly than me. She lived in Fort Lee with her parents, or one of her parents. She danced like Ari Up and showed me how to skank like I was in Madness. There was something about her though; perhaps a piece of the puzzle was missing. I thought she was intimidating but harmless and I was very much an innocent, if not a wimp that Laszlo tolerated, probably like the DeNunzio brothers took Laszlo under their shoulders when they were in the Feelies.

When I started working at Maxwell’s I was a barback that took over the Friday night gig working alongside Declan and Martha. Keith DeNunzio had the barback position before me. I recall giving him a ride home to Rutherford and he may have said something untoward about my brother Frank. I told Frank about it and whatever friendship Frank might have had with Keith DeNunzio evaporated. Keith called me out on it.

Laszlo was the best man at Keith’s marriage to a woman named Kim. I met them years before Maxwell’s. Kim was good friends with my Weehawken roommate William and stayed with us for a spell in the 90’s after living abroad. Other friends of mine didn’t like her but she seemed fine to me. Those other friends of mine were quite judgemental, it was all very high school.

I do have a nice memory from the summer of 1980. I was hanging out with Laszlo, Keith & Kim at Laszlo’s parent’s house. It was a beautiful summer night and the four of us went across Market St to a field and spent time, past midnight being silly and kicking a soccer ball back & forth. It was lovely and innocent.

I think I got home around 3:00 AM and was greeted by the back of my father’s hand across my 17 year old face, cursing me for staying out so late. Yes it was late, but it was such a magic night. Time flew by. No drinks, no drugs (at least not for me) just wonderfulness that came crashing down due to my father’s foul temper.

Keith and Kim divorced and Kim moved to Spain. Keith remarried to someone and I think he’s a dad. I got along with the other DeNunzio brother though it’s fleeting in that once small circle of Maxwell’s people.

whachagonnado?

1 Reply

Monday, May 25, 2026, Memorial Day. It used to be a big day growing up. There was the Saddle Brook Memorial Day parade that I marched in once or twice with the Junior Rifle Squad. We trained and rehearsed for weeks beforehand, in the streets around the Saddle Brook American Legion on the Garfield border.

We had a uniform of a cowboy hat, a blue shirt with patches on it, epaulets, and thick navy blue trousers with a yellow gold stripe along the sides. And spats for our black shoes. It was a complete waste of time and only something that was done to make the parents and adults feel good.

People like me who were pacifists but didn’t know it, went along with it or else. We had dummy rifles that we would twirl and present arms as well as throwing them to other members of the Junior Rifle Squad in a hopefully precise drill. Sometimes we caught them, sometimes we didn’t.

Before I was a member of the Junior Rifle Squad I was one of the great unwashed kids who would pick up the empty rifle shells once they cooled off following a 21 gun salute at the top of the hill on Market Street where the Gulf Station used to be. I would collect them with the other children of alcoholic veterans once they cooled off and treated them like they were precious items, not realizing a day later they would be forgotten and more than likely thrown out.

As the hours went past, the adults got more and more tipsy and the kids would be more and more rambunctious. The parade was usually on a Sunday, allowing the Monday holiday to be a day to tend to their hangovers and for the kids to count the days until the end of school.

In the present day it’s been quite a humdrum weekend, filled with rain and yesterday filled with antagonism. Bill was around and that was great. Mike was supposed to come around Saturday but begged off due to the rain. And yesterday, which should have been the replacement day, was also filled with rain.

I went to the supermarket both days alone and while annoyed with Mike who wanted to spend time with Bill, I was a bit relieved. I had the awakening that I was glad things had cooled quite a bit between us. Gone are the sexual games, settling in on friendship, and I expressed that in a text to Mike while talking to him on another social media platform.

Unfortunately, the timing was off. I was in the midst of a good chat with Mike, who spied the other platform expressing my happiness of being friends rather than something else. It derailed the good chat we were having and turned into a spiral of hurt and confusion. We went to our respective corners.

I could not talk to Bill about the situation, and Mike could not talk to his beloved about it either. So we sat by ourselves licking our wounds. Bill and I watched the Martin Short documentary, which was sweet.

Mike more than likely chatted in direct messages to his hundreds of followers, telling them how he would like to be with them doing things that I used to hope we would do to each other. Don’t ask how I know, it was a bit underhanded on my part.

So much so that it takes willpower not to do it again, which would only upset me. Mike and I did have a good long talk before bedtime for Bonzo. Apologies were made and accepted. We are a family, Bill, Mike, Me and the beloved, Wade.

A chosen family that still has the hang ups of a flesh and blood family.

whachagonnado?