Tag Archives: Civil Union


OK. Maybe it’s me. It probably is. I am at odds with the world.

Dave McKenzie sent me a joke, ‘They now have fat free communion wafers which left the recipients to say, ‘I Can’t Believe it’s not Jesus!’ I just tried to tell the joke to Bill.

I say the set up to which Bill replies, ‘They had fat in the communion wafers?’ No wonder I have a fat ass.’ I say ‘There goes that joke’. Bill says ‘No wonder I’ve gotten so fat’. I say once again, ‘There goes that joke. I’m trying to tell you a joke.’ He goes ‘I know’. The joke remains unsaid.

There’s a song that I like, Overkill. Originally by Men At Work, Overkill. I liked it then and liked it more when Colin Hay made an appearance on Scrubs singing the song. It’s a nice haunting song. I found a nice version of the song to play on guitar, not too many Norwegians involved. I wrote it in my trusty notebook and hoped to practice it today.

Today I went to the Soviet bloc offices in Hoboken and handed in the paperwork for the civil union from Saturday.

Also got an email from my sister in law who expressed some disappointment that she didn’t know about it. Well for me it was no big deal really. It’s just a civil union, not a marriage and akin to getting a library card.

No need to have people travel to see something that lasted almost 2 minutes. And once again, if I can arrange it, Bill & I will have a party, reception, get together in July, and that is when everyone can come. We’ll even redo the ceremony. The paperwork was handed in an I’ll find out whether or not well get whatever certificate they hand out.

After that I came home, did some laundry, had a sandwich and decided to go busking when the laundry was done.

I wandered over to Pier A where I saw Tariq and Tim and Tim’s buddies. I said hello and seeing they had the guitar case open to collect money I decided to move on. Tariq protested and insisted that I stay and play.

Tim mentioned that he was leaving. As much as I like Tim and his guitar playing, I think I freak him out. Here I am, this guy- perhaps his father’s age who raves about him and offers support and encouragement. Perhaps a little too enthusiastic.

Plus I find him intimidating, he’s that good on guitar and banjo and mandolin. And I don’t want to play The Weight or Down By the River. I like pop. Anyhow, Tim and his buddies split and I sat with Tariq. An older gent, older than me rode by on his bike and asked if he could listen.

He mentioned that he was learning how to play guitar and I suggested taking some lessons at the Guitar Bar. Tariq and I showed him how to play Sympathy for the Devil which has a total of 4 chords, just to show this guy how easy it is to play.

There was some grounds keeping going on, making a lot of noise and dust so I suggested moving onto the Pier and playing there. There were a herd of strollers on the grass and Tariq and I found a nice spot on a bench to play.

After a few strums, a disheveled drunkard wanders up pushing a cart. Tariq knew him and the guy sat down, eying me suspiciously. He pulled out a bottle which Tariq had a few shots from. It was offered to me but I refused.

The disheveled drunkard also pulled out a harmonica and attempted to play along, off key and out of tune. After sharing the bottle Tariq was a bit out of it and insisted that I play something original. I didn’t have anything original to speak of so I just played a few chords that I diddle along with from time to time.

The chords spell out a word which is the easiest way to remember the order. Then Tariq tried to show me how to play Black by Pearl Jam. I don’t like Pearl Jam and can proudly say I don’t know any of their songs. I fumbled along and when the opportunity presented itself I played Love Shack which got Tariq very excited, singing like Fred Schneider.

He doesn’t know 7ths very well so he just played major chords to the best of his ability. Then Tariq tried to show me how to play No Rain by Blind Melon. Another song from a crap band that I definitely do not want to know how to play.

Tariq insisted on playing jam songs and I told him I had the best jam song and proceeded to play Jamming by Bob Marley. After a little while the disheveled drunkard fell asleep and Tariq zoned out while I played The Lion Sleeps Tonight for a little boy and his Australian nanny.

Tariq eventually came out of his zone and had to head to the port-a-san. He asked me to keep an eye on his guitar while disheveled drunkard was passed out. I just played guitar when a slightly less disheveled drunkard came ambling up and picked up Tariq’s guitar.

I sprang to action, taking the guitar from him and telling him to go away. He insisted it was his friend’s guitar. His friend, Robert. I said that I didn’t care and to get the hell out of here.

He walked off and a few minutes later he was walking back with Tariq who apparently is also known as Robert. Tariq understood and said he would have done the same thing, not let anyone else touch my guitar if I was away.

The thing is I wouldn’t leave my guitar behind if I had to go somewhere.

The slightly less disheveled drunkard put his fist out for a bump and said his name was Eric. I told him my name was Allen. Tariq and the slightly less disheveled drunkard called Eric started singing one of Tariq’s songs called Dusty Roads.

I took that opportunity to say good bye and got my stuff together and headed home.

Ran into one of the workers at the bibliothèque. She was getting into her car and told me how she was looking forward to sitting on her balcony overlooking the river and watching the ships go by. She works at the library and lives about 5 blocks away and drives to work.

Spring is here and my disdain for most Hoboken residents is in bloom once again. Sleeves are shorter and shorts are being worn and the sight of stupid, idiotic tattoos are revealed.

Ah, Spring.

Disheveled passed out drunakrd, slightly less disheveled drunkard & Tariq with guitar

Disheveled passed out drunakrd, slightly less disheveled drunkard & Tariq with guitar

Blog entry 1601

My Love

It’s Thursday once more. It’s been an out of the ordinary day for me and Bill. Today was the day Bill and I decided to get a civil union from the city of Hoboken.

The whole idea started a few weeks ago when Joe Jervis of Joe My God posted on Facebook that a friend of his was looking to interview same sex couples who happened to be interracial. Seeing that Bill and I fit the bill I volunteered us.

It was for an article in a national magazine. Joe asked if we were married, domestically partnered or what. Living in New Jersey, civil unions were the only was to go. We discussed getting a civil union a few years ago but I guess both of us were distracted by whatever and so we never got around to it.

Now the subject matter came up again and since I am unemployed and fighting off troglodytes online it seemed like a good idea. I did the research and found out what we needed, photo ID, proof of residency, Social Security card, $28.00 and a witness.

I asked Stine the other day and she said she would be able to after she and Alexander came back from the Romper Room. So after a weird dream involving an occult warehouse and some demon looking for a pair of orange footwear I woke up and started the day.

Bill was awake soon after me and we both started donning suits and ties. Stine phoned that she and Alexander were on their way so I went downstairs to meet them. Bill soon came out and joined us and the four of us were soon headed to the Multi Services center of Hoboken on Grand Street.

I wisely mentioned not going through the park so Alexander wouldn’t insist on playing there. Stine was impressed by that. We walked over to the center and walked into the wrong room.

When we asked about civil unions the older woman behind the counter didn’t know what we were talking about, but a young woman behind us overheard and pointed us in the right direction and offered us congratulations.

We made it to the correct room a few doors down and spoke with a woman behind 2 inches of bulletproof glass. They asked what my father’s name was, my mother’s name, where were they from, were Bill and I related.

They also asked if I had my birth certificate (which they didn’t mention so I didn’t bring it) since my passport only has my middle initial. She asked if my birth certificate had my full middle name and it did. She decided to bend the rules and let it slide.

The same questions for Bill. Stine seemed to like the fact that Bill’s middle name is Julian. The woman behind the bulletproof glass asked Stine if to the best of her knowledge, what we said was true. Stine doesn’t do well with authority figures and immediately got flustered. I had to intervene and tell Stine that she was asking if we were lying.

We all then raised our right hands and swore an oath that we were all telling the truth and not communists despite the room seeming like it was designed by a Soviet bloc interior decorator. We walked Stine and Alexander back to the building where they got into their car and drove off to a play date with Julio’s sister’s twins.

Bill and I walked up to Stacks, a new pancake restaurant on Washington Street for a civil union breakfast. Quite nice. We went home and changed out of our suits, then Bill was off to Harlem to continue working on the play.

I walked over to the Guitar Bar where I informed Jim Mastro that I gave the city of Hoboken his name as the officiator for our ceremony. He was up for it. At the center when they asked when the ceremony would be and I said July, for when Annemarie will be around. But that’s too far off so I told them the date would be April 1.

I also had a great talk with my dear friend Connie on the phone for about 90 minutes. She may be getting a computer since its the only way she can watch Star Trek. I’m glad she’s doing better.

Here are some pictures from today’s lovely happening.

Bill and Me

Bill and Me

Cori and Magazines and NYC 006
That's my Bill.

That's my Bill.

We're almost legit!

We're almost legit!