Tag Archives: Cigar Shop

I Should Be Allowed to Think

It is fucking cold out today. I know its January and this is how it’s supposed to be. It was 19 degrees most of the day, perhaps hitting 22 degrees which actually felt nice. Then the wind blows in off of the river and there is nothing you can do but quicken your pace. Now it is 18 degrees and I am not going out again. And like when it is very hot outside and the brain fries and poor decisions and answers are forthcoming, it’s very much the same when it’s below freezing. No time to talk, just get the hell out of my way. I decided not to go to the supermarket and picked up some Chinese food.

I rarely eat Chinese food, but I know it’s a hot meal and at a good price. Of course I got the chicken and broccoli and forgot to request brown rice until it was too late. So white it is, or was. I hurried on home and found neighbor Frank from the second floor moving recyclables. They had really piled up and it seems like our handyman Robert is missing or not doing that job anymore. I helped Frank as much as I could and wound up putting my dinner in with the recyclables.

It took a second or two before I realized I was not holding my food anymore. Like I wrote, it’s so cold that I can’t think straight (though I never really could anyhow). I found my food and after moving and kicking a few things to the curb I bid Frank a good night and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. It was dark in the apartment, Bill is not home yet. I got the layers of clothes off and put the food in a bowl once I got settled in. And then I promptly devoured the chicken and broccoli and white rice.

The day was spent at the cigar shop. I was running low on cigars and Shlomo did ask yesterday if I could come in for a little while. I had no problem with that, but did not anticipate sitting in the cigar shop next to a mostly ineffective space heater and still wearing my coat, over a suit jacket, over a turtleneck sweater. Shlomo was there as well, spending most of the day in the cellar with a shady guy named Moishe. He had two eyes by the way, though an eye patch would have made a difference somehow.

I chatted with Juan online. He’s going to a wedding with his boyfriend and was asking questions about these trousers going with that jacket. I did what I could and tried to steer him in the right direction. I think it worked. He wants to look nice, it’s his roommate’s brother’s wedding. I finally got myself a haircut from my barber Tony. I did that last night. Glad I did though I asked for a trim and he went way beyond a trim. I really felt the lack of hair today whenever the wind would blow in my direction.
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1.22.2013 Hoboken Sky 001
1.22.2013 Hoboken Sky 002
Time Is On My Side

I Shall Not Be Moved

No bibliothèque today. No, today I am at the cigar shop. Apparently Shlomo, Israel and Brandon had a meeting. I wasn’t privy to it, but still I was requested to come in. The only one in today was Shlomo and he’s gone already. I expect to be out of here in about 3 and a half hours. That should be fine, and will be fine as long as Shlomo stays away. I know it’s his shop but his lack of communication skills are better served if he is away. Plus there is no reason for the both of us to be here at the same time.

Where yesterday was cold and damp with a lot of rain, today it’s merely cold. But it’s a dry cold. I was thinking about various people that I came across in my life and figure that sooner or later everyone Google’s their name and by writing a little bit about them here, perhaps Google will lead them to this here blog and perhaps open a line of communication. Either that or it is a chance to tweak Norton Reamer’s nipple and that is always fun to do. I write that with the intention of being figurative since I have never tweaked Norton Reamer’s nipples, nor if I am sure if he even has them.

Then there are the two ghosts that don’t seem to exist anymore, or at least very good at avoiding me, Jim Carley and John Nesselt. Two geezers that I went to high school with 30 years ago, and even attended the bloody 20th anniversary reunion with the hope that they would be there. They weren’t and despite intermittent searches on Facebook and whatnot, they seem to have fallen off the planet or at least, very good Luddites. I do hope they are well and happy.

Bill Carson is another name from the past. He is someone I greatly liked, and I was always happy to help him out whenever I could. He tried to get me to where he was when he left the investment bank that was started by Ashish Sanghrajka. It would have been nice but they couldn’t fit it in the budget and it’s just as well since the company he jumped to doesn’t seem to exist anymore. His wife, Laurie’s charity is still up, so that’s a good sign that all is well in Carson land.

Errol Stewart, guitarist for Fetchin’ Bones and the guy who got me into Murdoch Magazines all those years ago. He was a good guy and we even jammed at one point, making a tape called Driving in Arabia. The tape is long gone, eaten by magnets or swept away in Sandy’s wake.

And Darrell Holloway. Well I know what happened to him. He pops up in various emails and there is also a Facebook page featuring his nom de porn. I’ve suggested poses and made a few references to our mutual past which went without a reply which led me to believe that this was not Darrell Holloway at all but a reasonable facsimile thereof.
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Look what I got!

Look what I got!


A spy in the apartment of love.

A spy in the apartment of love.


The Beautiful Ones