Category Archives: Love Love Love

Scratchy Collapsy

Well here we are again, May 12. Not my favorite day, even though it’s a beautiful day, I would rather the date itself be different. But it’s Mother’s Day today just like it was 22 years ago. There’s been a twist added the past couple of years. The cigar shack of course plays a part. In 2011 the manager of the store announced he was leaving which threw me for a loop. I did congratulate him as he was leaving and also his reluctant successor also got some praise. I explained sometime later to the departing manager why May 12 loomed large in my legend.

Last year around the date and on Mother’s Day he sent me a tweet saying he was thinking of me knowing that this time of year ain’t so good for me. I thought that was nice. On my Twitter account was a link to this here blog (it’s still there) and I guess my former manager had the time to follow the link. He read what I had written and in turn contacted my then current manager, the reluctant one- and told him about this here blog.

The reluctant manager was out in NJ at some Giants football cigar to do and more than likely had a few in him, so when he sent an email thinking it was going to his underling, it was actually sent to me. So I knew the score, the reluctant manager’s cover was blown and less than a week later I was released, shown the door and told that my services were no longer required. I haven’t been back since and I do miss chatting with my former co-workers, but then again we do touch base via Facebook.

It was not as devastating as 1991 I can tell you. So today has been nice, mellow. A phone call with Annemarie, with posting and seeing posts on Facebook from family and friends, emails from Irene Grant from where I grew up, wishing the best and filling me in on her mother’s condition (frail). But I’m not gloomy, nor am I resentful.

The past two nights at Maxwell’s have been slow. Friday night was busier than Saturday night and that’s not saying much. At least on Friday I worked the whole shift, last night I went home at 11:00. Bad scheduling I would say. Friday had five bands, the first one had the largest audience, mainly family members and their friends. Saturday, two bands, first one on at 8:00, headliner on at 9:00 and it was basically all over by 10:00.

And unnervingly the first band (or one guy) Johnny Nicholson sounded a bit like Port St. Willow, whom I’ve been championing on this here blog. At least Johnny Nicholson did when I checked out some of his opening slot. I went to far as to email Nick Principe aka Port St. Willow asking if he had heard of Johnny Nicholson. I was tempted to ask Johnny Nicholson if he heard Port St. Willow but I let the moment pass instead. The headliner Trixie Whitley was a little too twee for me to see more than I did.
Bill is off visiting his mother at the home she is currently residing in, up in Washington Heights/Inwood. I’m watching Ian Dury and the Blockheads videos since today is also Ian Dury’s birthday. That’s about all this is going on, on this end of this here blog.

And we hope Mr. Peabody is on the mend.





My Mom and me.

My Mom and me.

The Groom’s Still Waiting At The Altar

Didn’t write yesterday, why(?)- I couldn’t tell you. Things have been good on this end. Occasional head butting sessions with Juan, since I have the thicker, larger head I won. But not for long since youth will triumph over age eventually. It was a whole lot of nonsense between me and him but things have gotten better and should improve while we stick to the rules.

I worked at Maxwell’s last night and did run into Juan as I walked home. He invited himself up to the apartment for some wine and before you know it he was nearly horizontal on the couch. He left soon after that and after watching the TV until around 2AM, I went to bed. At 3:30 I was in front of the computer waiting for an alprazolam to kick in so I could get some sleep.

I slept later than usual but that was because I fell asleep later than usual. The world wasn’t waiting for me. In fact the only thing on the agenda was going to see the Brian Eno installation of 77 Million Paintings once again, this time with my darling Bill. The plan was to meet up outside the place at 3:00PM and I was just a couple of minutes late. Bill didn’t mind and we sat on a couch watching the installation regenerate and I whispered some background information to Bill.

On a couch in front of us, a bloke was falling asleep, which was fine. It is a quiet, meditative place hidden away from the hustle and bustle of midtown Manhattan. After about 45 minutes we headed out, Bill went one way to his classes and I headed back to Hoboken. I might have stayed in the city longer but the weather has been very weird and when it isn’t bright and sunny (like now) it is dark and rainy (like 3 hours ago).

It was good to be back in Hoboken before the rain (or threat thereof). I ran into some neighbors and friends on the street which is happening a lot more lately since I am not such a shut in anymore and in the midst of the Hoboken social scene once again. It’s true, I walk down the street lately and I almost always run into someone I know. I’m not complaining but I do have to give myself some extra time if I have to be somewhere at a certain time so I won’t be late or rude.

Back to work for the next four days, off tonight, but I do have to stop by Maxwell’s anyhow. Strictly business, folks- strictly business.

And rest in peace Taylor Mead.