It’s Friday. Nowhere to go. Chillaxin at home is the agenda tonight. Cocktail by my side, fag burning in ashtray, all I need is a fedora and color blindness and I think I would be able to be a character in a Raymond Carver, ummm errr Raymond Chandler story. Need a dame, a moll, something, someone. Who’s Raymond Carver?

Michael Chertoff is Skeletor. There I’ve said it. Off to a black site for me? I was looking the other day at an entry from when I first started at McMann and Tate, I wrote seeing somebody being escorted in handcuffs into 201 Varick Street. That’s the NY office for the Department of Homeland Security. I’m surprised I tied that all together since as usual I have no idea where it is I am headed.

Work was quiet. Finished my work early enough and wound up chatting with various bears and their admirers. A bear is described in the raunchy John Waters clip from a week or so ago. I’m not a bear according to Juan. Song I bet, would disagree. Let those big game hunters fight it out. Two handsome young men fighting over the definition of me. Not me, but my definition. I was thinking about walking by the Garden to check out the hot young men going to the reggaeton show, but I remembered that at home and I sure as hell ain’t heading back in, at least not tonight. These itty bitty Daddy Yankee wannabees will just have to wait. I like the guys, not the music. And that’s Pedro’s influence. On the music, not so much the guys.

One of the bears I chatted with is Blabbeando, a blogger from Queens. Don’t know if he’s a bear or a cub or an otter or merely an admirer. Regardless or illegal dress, he’s a nice intelligent guy and he’s surprised at how personal my blog is. I told him he should see what I don’t write, which doesn’t make sense since I haven’t written it, no one will ever see it. His blog is more political and personal. Funny thing is last night I watched something about how in the sixties, the political became personal. Sort of like getting one’s chocolate in someone’s peanut butter. No innuendo there, honestly.

Once again I took an hour for lunch and once again I had a cigar. The other day I spied a relatively handsome guy smoking a cigar on Park Avenue so I thought I’d set up camp and take some pics. He eyed me suspiciously, I surreptitiously took some snaps of him. And a sexy guy in a suit. Carla asked me if she could take off next Friday and the following Monday and Tuesday to see her family in North Carolina. I told her ok, just need to run it by Tom Chin. Her friend Millie would fill in for her. Fine by me. Millie would replace Carla should Carla leave for another job, which she feels isn’t going to happen and with my experience, would mean she’s going to leave.

Fantastic breeze coming through the open window. I’m enjoying it. Hope Annemarie, Rex and Earl have a splendid time in San Francisco.

That’s about it for this end. Feel free to comment. No really, feel free.

Remember, nothing says “I love you” like a tattoo on your neck.

Here’s some pics.

Handsome suited gent

Cigar smoking dude

where I used to work at Wanker Banker. 3rd floor from top. They’ve moved.

Lexington and 50th street

Penny for your thoughts. or comments.

Luciano Pavarotti died at aged 71, pancreatic cancer. Probably the closest thing to a voice like Enrico Caruso’s that my generation will ever hear if they ever heard. I would have liked to have seen him sing, he did a free concert in Central Park a while ago, but I was too much of a rock snob to go. I may have been working or unavailable but I didn’t make an effort to go. My loss, for real. I like to think I’m well rounded in my taste in music, but I do have slip ups and ruefully appreciate things after the fact. I’m still a metal resistor, in all it’s forms from Death to Speed. Doesn’t go well with herbalization, does it? Well Bad Brains did it, but I never liked them either, so my resistance goes to Hardcore, Thrash and Straight Edge. There are one or two songs I like from both groups, but they slip my memory right now. Feel free to ask though. No really. I am writing to you phantom voyeur friends of Harpy.

Yesterday I woke up to My Sweet Lord, and went to sleep to I Should Have Known Better and woke up this morning to Yesterday. I do enjoy having WCBS back though it’s not the same, more like a reanimation of sorts. I just want to make my waking up peacefully, not wanting Black Sabbath or Pink Floyd on the radio. And since I recognize most oldies, it’s all pop music I have had a love hate relationship with pop music over the years. Loving it out of necessity and hating it when I didn’t need it.
Last night I didn’t do much of anything. I did watch A History of Violence by David Cronenberg and starring Viggo Mortenson and Maria Bello. It is a violent but tastefully done. There are reasons and consequences of the violence. It’s a stylized violence which makes a difference. I mean, consider crude violence and what that looks like. Not saying this is balletic like a Kung Fu movie, but it’s a good movie and rather fast paced. IMDB it if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait for the phantom voyeur friends of Harpy. I do recommend A History of Violence.

Work was fairly quiet, both Tom Chin and Vivek out on holiday, though not together. Got a phone call from Congressman Tom Cole for Tom Chin, saying that Tom Chin was going to get a Certificate of Merit from Tom Cole. Some big republican thing asking for money no doubt. I sent an email to Tom about it and he called back figuring out they were asking for money. He wanted to know why they asked for him, and I mentioned that he’s a republican from Connecticut. He said I was probably more right wing than he is. I certainly dress like a right winger for work, (it’s my belief that as abhorrent as I find the republican party, the men dress a lot better then their democratic opponents. If only there were a sharp dressed democrat.) but with my luck if and when the revolution happens I’ll be dressed in a suit and tie. Draw your own conclusions phantom friends of Harpy. Draw them I say!

Overheard this conversation on the street this afternoon, 51st between Park and Lexington.
I submitted this to http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/
“Her father always said them bitches better learn how to read. The only one was Cleo and she learned that legal shit and got hired. But every summer they would fire her so that kids from Harvard hospital…school could come in and do pre bono work.”