Sunday night. Yesterday was spent indoors mainly due the hangover and the heat. Last night’s blog was very easy to write. I guess my inner filters were in disrepair so it all came out basically in one piece, as is. I didn’t mind staying in yesterday, there wasn’t really anything to do and no one to do it with so staying home was fine by me. Bill came home in the afternoon and slept for a few hours so that afforded me a few more moments of alone time. And I spent most of the day riffing on some jazz compositions I had laying around the apartment.

Bill woke up and watched Knocked Up, which was pretty good, though not as good as the 40 Year Old Virgin and from what I’ve heard not as good as Super Bad, which isn’t out yet. Seth Rogen was cute and cuddly and would make a great bear, though not in this part. There were a few interruptions due to Bill needing to make some phone calls to set his plans for today, so the timing was stretched to two and a half hours which made an easy transition to watching Seth Rogen hosting Saturday Night Live.

Saturday Night Live was pretty good, not as good as the week before but still a few laughs. Spoon was very good too. I have one of their tracks from a few years ago, and I liked it enough to put on my iPod but never got around to buying anything else from them. Last night was a pretty good example on why I should. Also glad I didn’t go see Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem on Randall’s Island. I’m sure that was good but too much for the viejo I seem to be becoming. I did check youtube first thing this morning to see if anyone posted any videos from the show last night, and I have to say only three people posted by 9:00 this morning.

As Bill was leaving for church he mentioned something about calling me this afternoon so that I could join him and his family to visit Bill’s father in the Village Nursing Home on Hudson and 12th Streets. That was news to groggy old me, but I went along with it and went back to sleep as I heard the door closing behind Bill on his way to church.

I puttered along the muggy morning streets of Hoboken a little while after I woke up, getting my Sunday sundries. I was ok with the fact I didn’t know anyone on the streets and was able to make it home unmolested. Killed time watching the telly waiting for Bill to call. I thought about going out and hanging waiting for the call but it was too hot and I was sweating just sitting around the apartment. He called and I was on the Path train, for the first time in a few weeks.

I met up with Bill, and his mother, his aunt, his cousin, her husband and their kids. They were situated around the bed when I showed up. Soon it was crowded and Bill’s plan was to go outside to Abingdon Square across the street for some summer in October. Bill had another plan involving got to the Magnolia Bakery to get some cupcakes to celebrate his father’s birthday. That involved waiting on line for 40 minutes. That was ok though since it was a special occasion and with Bill and myself were Bill’s cousin and her two sons.

I helped pass the time by having a smoke across the street from the line and was able to snag a copy of Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, a compilation edited by David Sedaris that I bought for my sister in August for her birthday. I got mine for 5.00. They were still on line and by the time they left the store, Bill’s parents and company went back to the home. I stayed for a little while, had a couple of cupcakes ad soon I made my good byes, it looked like Bill’s dad was really exhausted with all the people in his room.

I left and had a cigar, walking along the highway, deserted until I stumbled upon a leather fest on Weehawken Street. I just stood on the outside looking in until I finished my cigar and got to the Path train where a train was waiting to take me back to Hoboken.

Here’s a cool video, Yer Blues by the Dirty Mac.
John Lennon on Guitar, Keith Richards on Bass, Eric Clapton on guitar and Mitch Mitchell on Drums.

Me Gusta youtube!

It’s a Saturday, a day of recovery oddly enough. Well, not really oddly enough since I knew I was drinking and I knew there would be a price to pay. The Piper’s Union sent their dues collector and that went well. They let me alone soon after that. I didn’t sleep particularly well, but slept about 8 hours which was good. Only a few steps behind myself most of the day. Contact with the outside world was kept to a minimum which was best for all concerned. And on top of that it was hot and the sun was quite strong. I went out for some items this morning and ran into Alice Genesse, Glenn Morrow and his wife Elizabeth (?) and also saw Tim Daly. These various people from my McSwells days, good to see them, but couldn’t stay too long to chat because of my aforementioned state of mind and disrepair as well as starting to melt under the oppressive morning sun.

Running on empty I suppose. Need to recharge. So far the day has been filled with laundry, food shopping, dry cleaning, eating, and reading the papers while an excellent BBC documentary on Black Popular Music. It’s on right now on VH1 Classics. It came on after I watched a documentary on Stevie Wonder and making Songs In the Key of Life. That record was massive and still resonates today. Some commentator said it’s much a touchstone of modern popular music as Sgt. Pepper. Now they’re onto Aretha Franklin signing with Atlantic Records. Great footage and it was written by Barney Hoskins who’s work I enjoy. I met him once back in the day when he came to Right Track Studios to interview Metallica. Anyway, it’s work checking out.

Plan to take a nap soon, that tired I am. After that I might watch Knocked Up from Netflix or Blue Velvet, which I hadn’t seen in a number of years. Let’s see if it holds up. Last night was a good evening with Vivek and Carla. Vivek certainly knows how to have a good time and he’s also a Yankees fan which I won’t hold against him.

Bill was a few blocks away from the pub where I was quaffing a few pints being the stage manager for Monk. He decided to take a town car home and while putting his things in the trunk, accidentally left a bag on the sidewalk. He drove by, dropped off his gear on the first floor then went back into the city to see if the bag would still be there. I think you know the outcome to that.

You never can tell though. One day back in the eighties, I had parked the company van on east 18th street, going to deliver the interoffice mail, and while I was doing that someone broke into the van and stole my bag of tapes which also had my checkbook in it. I wrote it off, closed the checking account and mourned the loss of my tapes. A week later I get a call from the NYPD. They had my bag with the tapes in it, and tracked me down since my name was on the checkbook. The only thing missing was a Graham Parker cassette which I didn’t much care for anyhow.

This was easier than I expected. I should be hungover more often.