Category Archives: the day after yesterday

Sister Golden Hair

Ugh, the day after St. Patrick’s Day. Not hungover, just a little buzzed last night, three pints only, no more no less. Slept really well after laboring with the editing of photos last night. Lately I’ve been having dreams that seem to resolve themselves by the time I wake up, though this morning’s dream seemed to take place on a deserted island ala Lost, in a Winnebago that was being shot at. That was where I woke up. I didn’t seem to be disturbed by being shot at in the dream, oddly enough.

Read the New Yorker on the way in and everything seemed to be fine, until I returned from an errand that took about an hour, and when I got back and sat down, I was exhausted. Eventually I rallied and got through the afternoon but it wasn’t easy. Yesterday was a good day, time spent in the love bubble with Bill. The love bubble is when Bill and I are somewhere in public, surrounded by people and all we feel is affection for each other. I doesn’t happen too often lately, both of us need to be in the same space, both mentally and physically and things being the way they are lately makes it difficult. I thanked Bill for that when I got back to Hoboken and waited for Corinne.

Got word from Chaz about our former neighbors in Weehawken. Three sisters, raising a boy and a girl. They were nice, thought our landlords were crazy. Never really hung out with the neighbors, just a friendly hello when we would pass each other. Chaz told me the youngest, the boy named TJ had died in a balcony accident somewhere. That was a shock. He must have been maybe 20 years old. I couldn’t find any information about what happened, if it happened. If it did happen I’m sure they’re devastated. I remember one time after a major blizzard, I was walking past a snowbank when I heard a cry and a scream. TJ was stuck on a snow drift, being pudgy, and his friends all deserted him. I walked over and dug him out and made sure he was alright before he ran back home. That’s what I’ll remember about TJ. A pudgy kid stuck in a snowbank.

In my search for information regarding TJ I googled Jane Street Weehawken. What came up was an apartment listing for my old apartment that I shared with William for 11 years. In those 11 years, the rent never went above $500, which we split. He had 2 rooms, I had 2 rooms ( a bit smaller than his though) separated by a room, with a shared kitchen and bath. It was great, and William was a great decorator, but his decorating sometimes got out of hand. I’d leave in the morning and comeback from work in the evening to find rooms painted a different color, furniture moved around. Sometimes the rent would go up, sometimes it would go down. Now the same apartment is $2200.

Crazy.

They took out the garden in the backyard, and I don’t know what else they did in the apartment, but man that was an eye opener. I split that scene after 11 years with William, 9 of those years silently resenting each other, hoping the other one would move out first. I surrendered when Julio found this apartment in Hoboken. No Pattie and Fred Kleinke banning Bill from the apartment more than 2 nights a week, though lately Bill’s only been here 2 nights a week.

I admit I lucked out with the timing of my moving out, William and Chaz and Kathe had to abandon their apartments about 6 months later when Pattie and Fred decided to sell the house and promised to deliver it empty, not offering William and Chaz a chance to buy it from them. Resentment all around. Even from me though I was already gone. What’s done is done and Jane Street, that magical time, and it wasn’t all bad, is history.

Danny Boy

St Patrick’s Day in New York City. Been here many times in many conditions. Presently sober, but Bill wants to have a pint after work so we’ll try to figure out where to go regarding that. Right across the street from work is Smith and Wollensky, a steak house where I know they have Guinness. So that seems to be the place to go. Or maybe somewhere else if Bill can think of it. My niece, Corinne texted me earlier (12:20AM) about wanting to have a St. Patrick’s Day drink with me so I’m meeting her at McSwells around 8:00.

I sort of fortified myself with McDonalds just to have something in my stomach. Not the best thing, but it was close, cheap and convenient. And it hit the spot, filling the post lunch salad void. And I only eat McD’s a few times a year. Not as exotic to me as it was in my childhood years, when going to McDonalds was a big deal. I chatted with both of my brothers today, Brian and I texting and eventually talking about our St. Patrick’s Day exploits 30 or so years ago, as well as what is going on in Hillsdale. With my brother Frank it was a talk about TV and movies and an invite to go out to Garfield on Sunday for dinner.

It’s Easter and it’s also my niece Meghan’s birthday. I accepted on my behalf, while Bill got an invite from his cousin Elsie for the same day. I am not sure if I was also invited, but Bill mentioned it so perhaps I was or perhaps Bill was overstepping on his invite. In any event, I’ll be Garfield bound and Bill will be in Stuyvesant Town. Just as well. Spoke to Bill and hour ago, he said he was leaving and would meet me here at the office in a few minutes. Now it’s been an hour. Perhaps he was held up walking across town, pushing past parade partiers.

Well we met up outside my building. Bill decked out in his Kelly green beret and Ireland scarf, looking dapper and happy. So many people on the streets I couldn’t think of a spot to go to, then I looked across the street at Smith and Wollensky. It used to be my cousin Jackie’s favorite spot for a steak. I didn’t think it would be too crowded and as we walked through it wasn’t. We walked up to the bar where the barman asked what we were having. I asked for two pints of Guinness and the barman said in a lilting Irish brogue that they don’t have Guinness. We thanked him and we were on our way.

All the pubs were filled to capacity and others were charging a cover just to get in and spend money. Bill mentioned that tomorrow there would be no charge and he was right about that. So we smoked cigars and walked across town, talking. That was nicer than any pub, just strolling and chatting and smoking. He walked me back to the bus terminal and we chatted some more before parting ways, me headed to Hoboken, Bill to Stuyvesant Town. I texted Corinne asking to move our arrangement up an hour. It was no problem for her and I sat on the bus and finished last week’s New Yorker.

Got to McSwells in no time, sat at the bar, ordered a pint when Corinne and her boyfriend Jonathan came in. Hadn’t seen him since the wedding in June and he looked good, soft spoken, well behaved, after all I am the uncle. The bar was getting crowded so I suggested moving to an off the bar area where we sat and I regaled them with tales of my errant youth. Corinne asked about her father’s past and illicit substances and I played dumb. I had three pints of Guinness, Jonathan had two Corona, and Corinne had most of one pint, then switched over to a Blue Moon which I had never heard of before alcohol wise. We parted ways, Corinne and Jonathan off to Clifton for more merriment and me at home to write this. And that’s where we are right now. Where are you?

Here’s some pictures from the parade and thereabouts this St. Patrick’s Day 2008
Everyone had some green on.
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Me!
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Party Lasses
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A gaggle of cuties
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a sea of green ♫
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randy gams
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Iraq vets
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Bill McVila
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photo by Lisa Rigoux Hoppe from Hoboken St Pat’s 3.1.08
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and for making it this far, a video sent to me from Rand Hoppe