STFU | johnozed

Bill and I just listened to The Hallelujah Chorus by the Roches. We sang our own version of it a few minutes ago. It was quite funny and ended with the both of us laughing quite a bit. Bill surprised me tonight, getting on the same bus that I was on at the bus terminal.

It was great to see him, the perfect end to a hum drum day. And the hum drum day started with the usual feeling of dread. Not wanting to go, but keeping in mind that it isn’t so bad, I would not have to deal with Calvin for four days.

He was off today and tomorrow, I’m off on Monday and Calvin is off on Tuesday. He’s going to see Prince, after the glowing review I gave last month after seeing Prince at Madison Square Garden with RoDa.

One of the things Calvin mentioned yesterday was that the staff spends too much time on the internet. So today I did not go online at the cigar shop. Neither did the Bradley or Sean. We were pretty good about that. It was a long day.

Yesterday we basically cleaned the shop, making sure everything had a price on it, as well as cleaning all glass surfaces. We do that a lot, cleaning the shop so that the cleaning woman has an easy time of it when she comes in for her 90 minutes of cleaning, Monday through Friday.

I did a lot of pacing on the floor, really. I should have been wearing a pedometer to see how many miles I accrue each day. And once again, former employee Don came into the cigar shop. He was in yesterday and left his scarf behind. Perhaps it was a Freudian thing, intentionally leaving it behind for a return visit, a ‘round two’ as it is sometimes called by former staffers. The present staff doesn’t talk like that.

And it was also the second day I had fore gone the free cigar from the owners of the cigar shop. It’s one of the perks of working there but it really doesn’t float my boat anymore. The whole experience of working at the cigar shop leaves a bad taste in my mouth and it isn’t from smoking cigars.

The cigars I enjoy are looked down upon by cigar snobs as being cardboard, despite the fact that this ‘cardboard’ pays the bills since more ‘cardboard’ cigars are sold than the top shelf cigars generally approved and given high ratings by the horrid Cigar Aficionado magazine. Lately it’s been such a drag dealing with Calvin and Marcus that I would rather just forget the whole thing.

Today since I was off the internet at the cigar shop, I went to an internet café and checked my emails, some job offers, and some red herrings. It wasn’t as expensive as I thought it would be. $2.00 for 10 minutes and I was done with what I wanted to do and went back to work for more pacing and cleaning glass surfaces.

Now I’m home, one more day of work then a day off, which of course can’t get here fast enough and will likely be over before I know it.

Not writing Sunday!

A day off. A cold day off. Slept really well, slept until 10:00. It felt great, like my body has adjusted itself to the time frame that I am used to. I intended to get up earlier, but things being what they are, and it being so cold out, sleeping in seemed the way to go.

After I had gotten up I had some coffee before running out to the supermarket. Got a few items, picked up some dry cleaning and then came home and had a nice breakfast. I was soon headed out the door, on the way to the Path train.

I stopped by the Guitar Bar where I picked up some slippers Annemarie had sent (‘quite nice and comfortable’ he wrote while typing).

A customer, or rather some one who hangs out at the cigar shop, is a photographer by the name of Ray Bangs. He had some photographs hanging in a store in Soho and today was supposed to be the last date for their exhibition. I decided to check it out and made my way down to Soho after getting off the Path train at Ninth Street.

It was blustery as I walked through Washington Square, down LaGuardia Place to West Broadway. There weren’t that many people out, possibly because it was chilly, possibly because the stores in Soho are quite pricey. It hasn’t been the fun place to visit like it was 25 years ago.

I loved going gallery hopping in Soho back in the day, now it’s all high end shops and very little art. I walked over to Greene Street and found Ray Bangs photographs hanging in an Italian furniture shop. It was nice to see them hanging on the wall and I also thought the furniture was wonderful. All white, almost minimal.

I then walked around the corner and checked out the Morrison Hotel which is sort of a gallery for Rock and Roll photographs. It was OK, nothing I really hadn’t seen before. I walked over to Canal Street (where there is now a Sheraton Hotel?) and hopped on an uptown train.

I was headed to Chelsea and couldn’t make up my mind whether to get off at 14th Street or 23rd Street. I opted for 14th Street and walked over to 10th Avenue to 21st Street. I indulged myself in a little herbilization before checking out some art.

I enjoyed Mimi Smith’s show at the Anna Kustera gallery. I didn’t know of her work before but enjoyed the show a lot. Certainly a lot more than the Robert Rauschenberg show a few doors down at the Gagosian gallery.

That was my main reason to go to Chelsea and I was dismayed at the fact that photographs were not allowed. In fact I was tailed by a security guard to make sure I didn’t take any pictures. I walked in there thinking it would be a nice way to spend some time and take some pictures while warming up, but the atmosphere was so oppressive that after a brief walk through I headed back out into the cold, where it was warmer.

I did ask the girl at the front desk about the banning of photgraphy and she said it was because of copyright issues. I then asked if the copyright problem was from the estate of Robert Rauschenberg or the gallery, and she said it was the estate.

I walked up to 25th Street to check out some more galleries but didn’t find anything that knocked me out. I walked up to 33rd and 7th Avenue, to the Borders bookstore. There’s a Borders near where I work and a week or so ago I was in there, and saw a nice 3D poster of the Beatles n Yellow Submarine.

I thought about buying it for Alexander, but when I went to buy it the other day it was no longer in the store. A salesman helped me and told me that I could pick it up at a few Borders stores in Manhattan and 33rd Street and 7th Avenue was one that he mentioned.

I walked to where the posters were, and once again I couldn’t find the Yellow Submarine poster. I asked a salesman who was of no help at all. I was hoping to get the poster to Alexander before he and his mom, Stine flew off to Denmark this Saturday, but now it seems unlikely.

Right now I am on hold with Borders at Park Avenue and 57th Street, thought I would call before actually showing up. 5 minutes is my limit for being on hold, so I hung up. I called again and spoke to a young man who said they had it and he would leave it for me at the register downstairs, so I wouldn’t have to go upstairs.

I’m glad to be home, nice and toasty in my new slippers. Bill is at his company’s holiday party. Bill will have his one Guinness and dance up a storm. I get to be the one who gives him a great big hug and kiss when he gets home.

Scott Buck?