Tag Archives: Bill

I Only Want to be With You

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Alright already! It’s the day of the Hoboken Fair Rent Association benefit at Maxwell’s and I am taking part in it. I will be the first person on stage which is only right since no one knows who I am really, or at least didn’t know I could play guitar. I helped one of the organizers get it together and mentioned that if he needed someone to fill holes in the schedule I would be willing to jump in. I did not expect to receive any billing at all, and I most certainly did not expect to be called ‘Johnnie’. So it goes.

I’m anxious of course. Just a fear of failing and by failing I mean playing the wrong chords. Bill will be there recording it so I will have my very own Zapruder film happening. I’ve been practicing and I am taking a precaution of scotch taping some chords to my guitar for when I get that deer in the headlights thing going on. I will be playing rock and roll hits on the acoustic guitar and would have been fine with that if it weren’t for someone asking me why I wasn’t playing any activist songs. Threw me for a loop it did.

So in the back of my mind I can’t help but think of activist songs to play but of course I am drawing a blank and let’s face it, I’m not the best guitar player out there. As I’ve explained to Bill who is an actual musician, I am not a musician- merely someone who plays guitar. I suppose some songs I am considering playing can have an activist slant to them. At least that is what I told ol’ Melvin. Am I comfortable playing these songs? Can I actually play these songs? It seemed easier when busking and being ignored by passerby.

Like I wrote I will be playing rock and roll tunes and when you think rock and roll tunes you might think of some guy jumping about on stage like Pete Townsend or any other animated performer. Me? I have the self reputation of merely standing there and strumming, or as I like to compare it, a tree with an itch. I’ve been texting with Lois just now and she has some good ideas that I might try out. The main thing is that I just have to stay out of my own way and hopefully out of my own head.

I am anxious about something that wouldn’t take more than 10 minutes and will more than likely be over with before I realize it. Why do I forget the punk ideal of getting up on stage and doing something? I know I have supported hundreds of bands when they got on stage, and I know I will have some support. Perhaps I am making too much out of this. According to Lois, I just have to own my moment and enjoy it while I can. I just have to make sure the fingers go in the right position and not try to hit those high notes.

And then there is some sort of backstage drama and I’m not even backstage. For your information there is no backstage at Maxwell’s. It’s a basement and to get to the stage you walk through the crowd. Anyway, it turns out I am not going on first. Apparently there is an act on the bill that is not for rent control and there is a desire to get them on and off the stage as soon as possible. So now I may be going on second.

I went on first and it went well. I didn’t suck is what I was told, high praise indeed! Bill was there, his recordings are posted below. Friends were there in the flesh and Facebook friends typed their well wishes, including Pedro telling me I’ve got ill talent which makes me smile. The videos are uploading now on YouTube so they should be done by tomorrow I guess. Four songs, Instant Karma, Heroes, Picture in a Frame and Heart of Glass. I was nervous but got through it safe and sound, no rotten vegetables thrown, no cat calls, so it’s all good.



I Never Told You What I Did For A Living

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Wow. I just woke up from a nap, did not set an alarm and still was able to sleep for a few minutes. I donned a suit and tie today and walked the drizzly streets of midtown Manhattan. I was in midtown last week and yesterday I had a phone call asking me to come in again. Well it wasn’t for anything earth shattering, just a request for me to come in and fill out some additional forms. Not a problem, I was happy too since not much seems to be happening at all on this side of the Hudson.

I came home after that and had a sandwich then decided to take a cat nap. I woke up to Mustang Sally playing in my head. I had a dream where I got into an argument with Rufus Wainwright (whom I’ve never met) about something on my iPod. He was quite a brat in the dream. It’s been a day with threatening rain and the occasional drizzle. Nice to stay in bed for that is for sure. It was a long nap, much needed since last night sleep was out of order despite being tired enough.

One of the forms I had to fill out asked how long have I been living where I’ve been living. And the answer to that is 10 years. It was around 10 years ago to the day that I left Weehawken for Hoboken. I still look fondly on my 11 years spent in Weehawken with my then roommate William. It wasn’t all a bed of roses during those 11 years but more often than not, we got along just fine. It was the landlords basically that sealed the deal for me up there on the Palisades. The demand that Bill not come over more than twice a week seemed unfair.

It was shortly after I turned 40 that Julio told me of an apartment in his building that was available. He might have offered it to both William and myself, not together but separately. Julio, being the mutual friend had heard enough sniping from me about William and vice versa. So I came and saw the apartment, and almost immediately agreed to move in. The landlord said it would be an extra $100 if I kept the washing machine and I told him that he could take the washing machine. It is still here.

William and his brother Chaz helped me move with Bill. I don’t think any of us had any idea what a difficult move it would be, four flights of stairs can be quite daunting and we moved over the weekend, a rainy weekend. I rode with William in his pickup and Chaz and Bill followed us. I recall hearing Cam’ron and his song Hey Ma a few times as we drove down the hill and so I will forever equate the song with the move. It was nerve wracking since after living in my parent’s house, Weehawken was the second place where I lived the longest.

I was also called Imelda Marcos since I had a lot of shoes. I still do, just don’t wear them that much anymore. I was between jobs and it was a risky maneuver, mainly working as a temp back then. The landlords in Weehawken were supposedly very upset that I didn’t say goodbye as they watched things leaving through the Venetian blinds. After everyone left and I was preparing to sleep in the apartment for the first time I was seized by a panic, ‘what the hell am I doing?’

As fate proved it turned out I was doing the right thing. The landlords in Weehawken decided after I moved to sell the building. They could have offered it to William and his brother Chaz, but instead went to a realtor and as the deal was going down, they promised the building would be empty of tenants. That was shitty since William and Chaz could have gotten a loan and bought the building from them. Instead they had to scramble. Chaz and his wife Kathe had poured thousands of dollars into their apartment to renovate, William turned a weed strewn yard into a wonderful garden full of flowers, vegetables and grapes.

Now they had to find somewhere else to live. Occasionally one of the landlords is seen in the bus terminal in Manhattan. They bought a condo a block away from where they grew up as brother and sister and it’s usually Chaz who sees the brother who never sees Chaz, which is how Chaz likes it. And now Bill lives here with me. An equal partner, no nonsense of being allowed over twice weekly. And the brother and sister are forever joined together in the Gregory Commons where they probably frighten their neighbors.

William and I were never frightened of them though we did find it odd that as the brother took a bath he would have a conversation with his sister while it sounded like she was right in the bathroom with him, or sitting just outside. They neighborhood changed after we all moved, some one was killed on the sidewalk around the block, Mary the sweet crossing guard passed away. And the building was converted from 4 apartments into 8.


give this guy a job!


Hey Ma – Cam’Ron