Hoboken | johnozed

It’s Tuesday and feels like a Monday which isn’t so bad. The feeling of September despair has faded somewhat. Talking about it with Bill yesterday certainly helped. The nice walk around Hoboken was out of the ordinary.

Running into Rand and Lisa was sweet as well. It turned out that Rand sent me a text message before knowing I was in his vicinity, stating ‘Stop looking at me.” That made me stop walking with Bill for a moment and scan the Maxwell Place area.

Yes Maxwell Place. What used to be Maxwell House, the coffee factory is now very pricey condos with a boat house for all those wayward sailors in Hoboken. But Rand and Lisa were on the opposite side of the street. Always a pleasure to see them and they were on their way and we were on ours.

Castle Point Terrace, nice homes including one they can’t seem to sell at 2.9 million dollars. I’d like to buy that house if and when I win the mega millions. Give Annemarie, Rex and Earl a place to stay when they visit back east. Last night was TV mainly, nothing much on at all.

Hurricane coverage, republican convention coverage and a Scrubs marathon on TV Land which unlike Comedy Central was showing them out of sequence. Turk and Carla got married, next episode Carla is recovering from giving birth. I really couldn’t care actually.

Went to bed a little after 11:00 and immediately had a dream that my teeth were falling out of my mouth. That was unnerving and made going back to sleep difficult as my tongue ran itself over my teeth making sure that most of my teeth were still in place.

Woke up with Bill kissing me goodbye, I had to ask him what time it was. My body clock is a bit screwed up since I had been staying up late, sometimes until 1:00AM and sleeping until 8:00. What a rebel I can be.

It was 6:00, Bill told me as he turned and walked out the door. I got out of bed, showered and shaved, had coffee (made by Bill) and cereal and I was out the door around 6:45, earlier than previous times.

Too early to see Casey on the bus or at bat, I read the New Yorker. Made my way across town listening to the Slits, Cut. I think that would be one of my desert island discs. I was definitely the first person in the office, getting in around 7:45.

Too early for my tastes but what can I do? Having taken 2 days off, the mail was piled up on my desk. I didn’t care and set about doing everything else then onto the mail. Most everyone was in today. Trudy, a sweet woman who is one of our subtenants asked if they told me how much they need me and of course they hadn’t.

They did drive Trudy crazy on Thursday and Friday trying to get her to do all the things it is that I do.

The day crawled. 4:30 couldn’t arrive soon enough. I walked across town listening to Sly and the Family Stone who happened to be right after the Slits on the iPod. An enjoyable Padron across town, giving change to the crazy homeless guy who always calls me soldier as we give each other a terrorist fist bump.

Got on the bus and started again on Alan Bennett, Untold Stories. Now he’s writing about his diaries and how they get printed in a newspaper at the end of each year. I could relate to that, though I publish my diary everyday it seems.

Saw Ally Politkowski on the bus He wasn’t looking too good. On his way to the doctor. I tried to give some words of encouragement, telling him we still have to get together for that elusive drink. I asked if he needed help getting to his doctor but he waved me off and managed a smile as I got off the bus.

Saw Julio’s car on the street so that means he and Stine and Alexander have returned from Denmark. Or at least his car has traveled from North Bergen to Hoboken on it’s own which is probably unlikely.

Got a letter from my damned insurance company and found my claim was rejected again. Bastards. I know, at least I have insurance. But it doesn’t seem like it. I pay into it, but don’t really see the benefits despite having my dentist write a letter explaining why she did what she had to do, and it was overseen by her professor.

Oxford Health Insurance bites, or in this case, gums.

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