Category Archives: moldies but moodies

Turn the Heater On

It’s a Tuesday. Not necessarily a sunny day but it was OK enough to get me out of the apartment after job searching for a good part of the day. Last night’s cannabis free dreams involved being in a taxi on Eighth Avenue with a former co-worker who was a composite of a few different co-workers.

In the dream I started out wandering lost in the Port Authority bus terminal. Larger and more sprawling than it actually is. Caught a cab with the co-worker, and as we sat in traffic the cab driver decided to take a short cut which was basically a parking lot with only one way to get in and out. Bumper to bumper traffic.

The co-worker left when we got back into the traffic and I eventually woke up. Made some coffee, had breakfast and showered. Yes, all blah blah blah. Living on the 5th floor of a building means that it’s generally cooler five stories up than it is on the street.

I usually turn on the heater built into the stove for a little while to warm things up but found that when I went to turn on the heater, there was no heat. I checked and the pilot was out. SO I lay on the floor trying to turn it on to no avail.

I texted Julio to see if he could help me with it, but they have a similar problem with the heater in the bedroom and even a handyman like Julio couldn’t fix it so they’ve been using a space heater. He suggested calling PSE&G for an appointment so they’re scheduled to come here tomorrow between 8AM and 12PM.

And since the stove which is pretty old is not under warranty it could cost us some money for the visit. The stove works, but not the heater. I called Bill and left a voice mail for him.

I’ve been doing good. Avoiding most TV news. No more MSNBC on during the day. Instead I watched the Gilmore Girls and wanted to move to Stars Hollow. I watched a repeat of the Daily Show from last week and then headed out.

Wandered around Hoboken, making my way up to 14th Street and then over to the river. Bill called back a few hours after I called and he was his usual ebullient self. He asked what I was up to and I told him I was walking around Hoboken, glad to get out of the apartment.

I also remarked that I was glad to be away from people and he laughed at how I was alone in the apartment and now alone outside. I told him that there was no one around where I was walking, that that was what I meant.

He asked how I was feeling and I told him I was reluctant to tell him about being a little depressed. He didn’t mind hearing it, saying that I would be there for him if the situation was different. And it’s true, I would be and I have been.

But this has been going on more and more lately, hence my reluctance to say anything. Then Bill had another call and said he’d call me back. That was about 6 hours ago, not that I’m counting. He’s at work and doesn’t need to hear the crap I’m going through.

Walked towards the train station, circled around Pier A. In the distance I saw Tariq, packing up his guitar and heading away from me. I could have yelled out to him but decided not to.

I made my way home, and called my brother Frank. It’s been hit or miss with him lately and decided not to let him interrupt. Told him about the guitar playing and the keyboard playing the other day and even how I’ve been a little bit depressed lately.

He suggested playing the guitar some more and once I got off the phone with him that is exactly what I did. And he was right. It took my mind off my problems and gave me a feeling that I was accomplishing something.

I’m trying to build up a repertoire for when I actually try my hand at busking and for the past couple of hours I’ve been playing Paul Simon songs courtesy of the Ultimate Guitar website.

One song in particular stands out and it’s a from a video by Gary Weis from the early days of Saturday Night Live, just footage of people coming home for the holidays at various terminals and meeting their loved ones.

I always think of Gary Weis’ video when I hear Homeward Bound, and just sent him an email telling him so. Another person sent an email to him saying basically the same thing. A short 3 minute video that resonated so deeply 30 years ago, still resides in my mind and my heart.

Don’t Pass Me By

Well I broke down and bought the remastered White Album, Abbey Road and Sgt Pepper. When at Target the other day I saw they had the best price and after obsessing about it, I decided to bite the bullet and get some.

The White Album was listed at $18.99 which is cheaper than what I paid for it 10 years ago, close to $30.00. If you’re a cashier at Target, if there is no one on your line you have to stand in front of the registers and tell people that you’re open.

At the register (#9) it was marked down to $16.99 and then the cashier applied a $5.00 gift card, knocking the price down to $12.58. At that price I also picked up Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper. And those were $13.99, at the register- $11.98 and the $5.00 gift card was applied to that as well so it was too good a deal to resist.

I was so excited about it that I told Rand and Chaz about it. And they do sound better. The CD’s. Rand and Chaz sounded the same. The records have more of a warm feeling, full sound- not flat like before. And I’m no audiophile.

That was basically the highpoint of the day. It’s been a better day than yesterday.

Online I sent the fat geezer from England who was giving me a hard time yesterday to the Spam folder never to be heard from again. I stopped by Tunes to check out their price and everything was a few dollars more for the remastered Beatles CD’s.

I called up my brother Frank, just to check in, to let him know about the Target prices. I was feeling pretty good, walked along the new walkway between Hoboken and Jersey City. They were setting up for the official opening with Governor Jon Corzine making a speech.

On the way home I had to get some juice and butter substitute and I got a call from Frank. I told him how the Target deal went down. He had mentioned earlier about how he would like a mono copy and I told him then that it wasn’t for individual sale, only as part of the $300.00 boxed set.

He said his friend Alex got it for $100.00 and I sort of disputed that. Outside the supermarket, in a good mood, last day of summer he mentions again how he’d like a mono copy. I said his friend Alex could burn a copy for him I’m sure, but I myself wouldn’t expect one from Alex since I’m not Alex’s friend.

Once again I get accused of being antagonistic. I tell him that I’m not antagonistic, I don’t appreciate being called antagonistic like he did on September 9 when the Beatles stuff came out again.

I was quite happy and thrilled and trying to share that happiness with him but he’s not having any of it either then or now. I told him it would probably be best to end this conversation right then and there since it’s going to a bad place and I didn’t want to go there.

I do my shopping and come home excited to hear the Beatles stuff. I feel a little bad, especially when I open my emails and there are 2 links that Frank sent. One was an R. Stevie Moore thing covering Elton John’s Think I’m Gonna Kill Myself and the other was this fabled rapid share list of the Beatles remastered from WFMU.

I decided to call him back and thank him for the links. I try to explain how I am feeling and during that he tries to interrupt me but I don’t let him. ‘Oh it’s all about you,’ he says. I tell him I am trying to tell him what is going on. He’s a bit put off that I didn’t enjoy a link he sent regarding an off shoot of Arcade Fire. I tell him I haven’t listened to Arcade Fire since May 2007 when I had my meltdown at their Radio City show.

I respect him, even admire him but what’s the point when there doesn’t seem to be any respect coming my way? He had another call and I told him to call me back if he wanted to. He hasn’t.

Now that’s the Junior side of the day.

The Senior side is about my father who died 10 years ago today. It’s hard to write positive things about my father. He did put a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs and food on the table but he also ran a tight ship, kept us in line by browbeating us or actually beating us.

He was 40 years older than me and I don’t think we ever really got along. There was never any moments of a hug and saying I love you.

Growing up I disliked him so much that I indented an X on his face in a picture of him and his siblings. He did try to make a connection I guess, but talking to a 15 year old boy like he was 5 years old wasn’t the way to do it.

I didn’t like the way he treated everyone in my family and wanted him out of my life, the sooner the better.

But that would never happen, even after abandoning my mother in Cape May and driving back to Lodi after my mother jokingly said when having after dinner cocktails at some restaurant ‘that she was fine and didn’t need his money’.

He decided to teach her a lesson by deserting her, my mother. He felt totally justified in this.

After my mother passed away in 1991, I was living in a bad situation and he was as well after losing his wife that I thought we could both help each other out. Everyone warned me about moving back to Lodi but I saw a side of him I had never seen before.

Loss and grief.

I was working in Hoboken and taking a bus to Manhattan and then a bus to Hoboken. It was a job and I had no other options.

One morning as I was getting ready to go to work, I used his deodorant. He must have seen me doing it and he says, ‘I don’t know what diseases you have, but don’t use my things!’ I could not wait to get away from him, I would be happy if I had never saw him again.

I lived with him for 3 months in Lodi and didn’t speak to him from 1991 to 1998. Before that I didn’t speak to him after kicking his pregnant daughter out of the house for a couple of years, until my mother passed away.

But of course he was around. At Xmas eve dinners at Brian & Karen’s my brothers would try to get me to wish him a Merry Christmas. I had done it before and each time I would be rebuffed. And once again I went up to him hand out for a hand shake and he would look the other way. I told my brothers that I am tired of being the ‘better man’.

To others he could be quite the charmer, but to me he was a mean, petty and vindictive man and I do not miss him at all. I didn’t like him and thought he was an idiot. I’m sure he felt the same way about me.

In fact, I don’t think I really became an adult (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) until he died. Bill notices my lack of self confidence and my zero self esteem, and has figured out where that came from.

It was oddly reassuring to hear from my cousin Jackie that he didn’t realize how bad things were under his Uncle Francis’ roof until after he died. It was good to get some sort of recognition of neglect.

So here I am 10 years later, butting heads with his son with the same name.

I simply cannot win with anyone named Francis Xavier.

But I will always give Junior another chance.

An hour or so later.

Just got back from a walk around Hoboken after dinner. Enjoyed a cigar, listening to the iPod. Thinking about my father and that classic line from Paul Westerberg from the Replacements, ‘He might be a father but he sure ain’t a dad’. That sums up a lot.

I recalled when I was living with my father and during a lull in our stormy relationship we went out to dinner. He was going on about how his mother, my grandmother, treated him like a prince and my mother treated him like a prince. What a princely life he had.

The thing is, around that time Jim Mastro and Meghan Taylor had thier first daughter Lily. Now Jim and Meghan weren’t selfish at all and when Lily came into their lives Lily became the center of all tings Jim and Meghan, as it should be.

I couldn’t (or can’t) help but compare my father to Frank & Elaine and their daughters, Anne & Rex with Earl and Brian and Karen with their 3 kids and how their lives revolved around their children, like Jim and Meghan. But no one would be most the important in my father’s life, except my father. It struck me as odd and made me realize that we were in competition with my father for my mother’s affection.

We lost of course since we weren’t the breadwinners.

He said and did some truly rotten things. But he was my father and he put food on the table, clothes on our backs and put a roof over our heads.

So for that I will say ‘Thank you’.