Category Archives: the day after yesterday

It’s A Sunshine Day

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It was a beautiful day yesterday and it continues today. Last night was so nice I actually left the apartment and walked around for a spell. I smoked a Padron and wandered Washington Street. Cafes and restaurants were bustling.

20 years ago I would always bump into someone I knew, nowadays I don’t know anyone. People moved, sobered up or overdosed I guess. Some of you who’ve I known have done that.

I enjoyed walking around by Pier A, a few fishermen, some couples and various groups of friends. I’m basically a shut in, I go to work and I come home. That’s about it. I forgot about the social scene that exists in Hoboken.

Big doormen checking IDs from various vapid 20 somethings that I could have sired if I was so inclined. I probably fit the bill, walking around smoking a cigar whereas everyone else was wearing the branding that they pay a lot of money to promote.

I strolled by Church Square Park on my return, disappointed that the regional basketball games weren’t happening. I hope I didn’t miss them entirely. I could hear the referee’s whistle from where I sit in my apartment, but never heeded the call.

The walk lasted an hour and I was soon back home, not watching anything in particular and going to bed not too long after that. That’s my Friday night in Hoboken.

Woke up around 8:00 this morning, taking my time before I headed out to do some shopping. I needed to get some more Stevia, some lettuce and of course bagels and the newspapers. Came home, had a nice breakfast and tried to think of something to do.

I watched SCTV: The Early Years and while it’s still funny, it really hasn’t aged too well. Plus after watching current comedies without laugh tracks, it’s unnerving to hear one from 30 years ago.

I decided around noon to go for a bike ride. Nothing planned really, just seeing where the bike would take me. I wound up riding to the Ninth Street elevator and rode it to Congress Street in Jersey City. Up Palisades Avenue, down Hudson Street in Weehawken through my old neighborhood. Some new buildings have gone up since I was last up there.

I also found that some drivers are terrible when dealing with a bicyclist on the road, but the ones talking on their cellphones are the worst. Really dangerous to everyone. And I was almost doored twice. New Jersey is so NOT bike friendly.

I’ve heard talk for years of a path from Bayonne up to the George Washington Bridge but it’s just talk. The right palms aren’t being greased. I take the side streets which are generally wide enough but still one has to maintain strict attention to everything that is going on. That’s a basic rule when riding a bicycle and no, I don’t wear an iPod when cycling. I have enough songs floating around my head and they provide an ample soundtrack.

I had enough water and made it to Fort Lee safely. Then it was over the bridge which still intimidates me. I’ve been riding across it for years but still it freaks me out. No stopping, just getting from point A to point B, from New Jersey to New York City.

On the bridge I get passed by, by various ‘serious’ cyclists with more branding. US Postal Service Lycra and spandex gear, and various other bicycle companies on $1,000 bikes. I’m a bike rat. I wear the bike shorts but keep them underneath whatever shorts I happen to be wearing, and the usual collared shirt with a back pack on. And my bicycle helmet.

There’s a lot more dumb riders than previous rides, who stand at the bottom of steep hills and decide that would be the best place to have a chat as you’re barreling towards them going 35 miles per hour. Or the two blondes who decide that even though that certain bike path is narrow, why not stop and discuss hair tips right then and there?

I made it to Central Park unscathed, and rode over to the rock by Summerstage where nothing was going on, at least not at 3:00. I then rode over to the skate circle which was just starting up. Some of the same characters that I’ve seen over the past dozen or so years.

Roller Granny, The schizo man who was on some news magazine a few years ago. Great at his job but he occasionally winds up somewhere and has no clue how he got there, but still he winds up roller skating around and around. The buff brutha who’s been there for years. Even some of the same spectators I’ve recognized over the years.

I usually sit in the same spot which is opposite the unofficial Bear Hill. I found that out via Joe My God’s blog. I read that everyday and comment occasionally on it. Perhaps if I met Joe without his group I would say hello, but there were a few bald, heavy set guys and I couldn’t tell which one was Joe anyhow. I’m more of a wolf than a bear anyway and my lycanthropic instincts told me to keep away.

It was a brief visit in the park and I was out of there maybe 90 minutes. I decided to go back to the bike path via 59th Street. No problem getting out of the park despite all the bicycle taxis driven by utter and complete morons. I was on Broadway behind one of these twats when he decided to make a U Turn in the street.

He sort of apologized and I told him was an idiot on a tricycle who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. That’s when he decided to hit my back tire. I didn’t stop I just kept going flipping him the bird as he yelled Fuck You in a Russian accent.

I decided to do something on the way back. Instead of catching a Path train from the World Trade Center station to Exchange Place, I took it easy and treated myself to a ferry ride to Hoboken. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again anytime soon. $8.75 for a one way fare that takes 10 minutes to cross the Hudson River.

I know that it’s the fuel costs as well as paying the salary of everyone involved in the operation, but it would be cheaper if I had a car and drove into the city myself. But it was an exorbitant amount for my cheap ass. A single passenger without a bike is $7.75. That’s not bad since once you get to the city you get a bus that takes you in the general direction of wherever you want to go.

Me? I have a bike, I would get there myself thank you. Shanks mare. Next time the Path train for sure. And I wouldn’t have to listen to these newcomers to Hoboken prattle on about where the best nightclub is on 14th Street. I enjoyed today’s bike ride despite other people being around.

26 miles roughly. Not bad for the first time since last year. It would have been further if it I didn’t take the ferry.

The Hudson River

Off the bike path in Harlem

The Promenade

Shorty watching the dancers

Remembering how he used to dance…

Straight out of the news magazines….

Roller Granny

Buff brutha

Some blogging bears on the hill

Sailing past Florence…umm…err… Union City

Slouching towards Hoboken
way

Voodoo Ray

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Well I think last night’s entry was one of my best. It came quite easily too. I enjoyed it so much that I was the first to comment on it. I wrote it before I went to McSwells where I met Lois and her betrothed, Fred.

I walked up Washington Street distressed by the stroller set. Honestly these people with their strollers. A man and woman with a stroller and their toddler letting the kid look at and touch whatever he wanted until the kid just sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, mom with the stroller not moving and she and the dad were trying to reason with the kid to get up off the sidewalk.

Forget about making room for pedestrians like me, let junior sit where dogs shit. After I maneuvered around those three I was met head on with three young moms and their strollers, all walking side by side, stroller to stroller as if they owned the friggin’ sidewalk.

Julio and Stine are of course excused from this behavior simply because they don’t behave like that with Alexander.

I got up to McSwells where Lois and Fred were waiting. Lois offered to buy dinner but I had eaten already since when I got home I was famished. I did order some curly fries and shared them with Lois and Fred. Also had mayonnaise with the fries for that European feel. To further the Euro mindset I drank Stella Artois. Nice for a hot summer evening.

As I sat at the table with Lois and Fred I had one eye on the door looking out for my brother Frank. Once again it was old home week. Alice Genese, a few Bongos including super nice guy Jim Mastro and his wife Meghan the funniest girl alive. She brightens up my world when she’s around.

My brother eventually showed up and I think Meghan gave him a great big hug, thinking it was me. That’s what Frank thought. We do look alike. In fact a friend of his gave me a big hello when he saw me, not realizing that it wasn’t Frank until I said Hello back. It’s unnerving. I sometimes make a conscious decision not to walk around with a puss on since I’ve seen what Frank looks like with a puss on.

On a smoke break I wound up talking to two former denizens of the Beat N’ Path. We chatted about some people we had in common. I confessed a certain snobbery that McSwells people had towards the Beat N’ Pathers. One guy who used to run the Kitchen Table Music shows there told me of his first time at McSwells when gay people sat at one part of the bar and straight people sat at another. It sounded like bullshit to me since I had never seen such a thing and I sat wherever I damned well pleased.

The Individuals were good, but sorry to say, out of tune and dull. They had a nice crowd though. I hadn’t heard those songs in about 20 years and to tell you the truth, even though I liked them then, I could have gone another 20 years without hearing them again.

I’m sure they’re all nice people though I only know Glenn. Let me rephrase that, I don’t know if they’re all nice people. I’ve seen Janet through the years and she’s never said a word to me though we both know similar people. One time while in my suit and tie she sat opposite me on the bus and kept giving me the look that I know so well. The look that is, ‘He looks just like Frank…’

I just wanted to go home. The show ended, but Frank was in his element. Saying good night to his various friends. Funny- he used to have some comments about my friends, though I can’t remember ever commenting on his.

I was home a little before 12:30, past my bedtime. I have a real job now, a good job and needed to function on what was going to be 5.5 hours of sleep, and with the Stella Artois, it wasn’t a restful sleep.

Oh, how last night followed me throughout the day. I persevered and got through the day, even eating my usual healthy salad when my body wanted something more substantial. Still, I was able to get through the day and left at 4:00 instead of leaving a half hour later.

I was supposed to have dinner with two friends from my Wanker Banker days, but I had to help Bill out and his mom. Now I’m home again and I know I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.

Lois and Fred

The Individuals blurred

The Wrist

Open Late

A milestone approaches and I am inching towards it. I’m excited. No, really.