McSwells | johnozed

It’s back to work and back to reality for me today. Yes I am back on planet Earth. Last night’s entry was difficult. I posted, Harpy commented, I unpublished it, then Harpy pointed out the typos which I corrected and republished. I used to do that sort of thing back in the 1980’s, a lot of acid. Jet and I had a sheet with Conan the Barbarian on it, which Jet called magic.

We’d nibble at the magic for what seemed like weeks, I would get a kick out of going to McSwells and hanging out with friends most of the time tripping. I definitely enjoy the experience with Juan over the weekend, a little ego destruction. Really cleared the deck of hang ups and whatnot and I feel more clear headed and reasonable now.

It was ironic after being with my brother Frank this weekend, him telling me tales of his wayward youth, mainly with him tripping a lot of the time. And here I was, hours after being dropped off by Frank, getting on the bus and taking another trip. No regrets on my end and as far as I know, Juan had none either.

As I was wandering the omniverse Saturday night/Sunday morning I was thinking about what I would write for the blog, but it didn’t exactly come out as planned. I didn’t want to be too obvious, not that there are children reading this and then telling their parents, that they want to do acid since they read about it on a blog.

That would be funny to me at least, a child reading this blog. Now if I produced some bomb making instructions, that would be cause for concern. There was the experimental influence back in the day, The Beatles, William S. Burroughs among others who dabbled becoming addled.

Also in the early 1980’s there seemed to be a resurgence in the use of hallucinogens. The Rain Parade, The Three O’Clock and others from LA while other bands from all over seemed to be making psychedelic music. And there were a few other people at McSwells who indulged in such substances then so I was in good company.

Eventually the supply ran out, only reappearing from time to time. I think the last time I had done it was with Roda in Central Park when we had gained backstage access to a spoken word performance hosted by Tricky.

It was a nice night, Roda and I thought we bonded with Tricky and exchanged phone numbers, which days later Tricky changed his number. Roda and I wandered around Central Park, laying about in Strawberry Fields and the Sheep Meadow, tripping out on the electric trees at Tavern on the Green.

We even used the restroom in the restaurant, since it’s on public property, public access to the bathrooms are required. I remember it was at the end of a hall of mirrors and that the little man who used to tour with Kid Rock was thrown out of a party for Kid Rock for being too drunk.

So now I am back in the present, feeling good and refreshed. I was even able to walk through the crowds of tourists and didn’t wish any of them ill will. All very pleasant.

Well I just got back a couple of hours ago from Ship Bottom, Long Beach Island. All is well. The ocean was like bathwater, it was that warm. A few jellyfish but that’s sort of expected in August down the shore. There were reports of lots of jellyfish off the coasts of NJ and Long Island, but it wasn’t too bad at least in Ship Bottom.

Thursday morning Bill was off to work after a nice dinner with Casey and his wife. It was at McSwells and it was a bit on the loud side. I don’t recall Steve Fallon allowing music that loud to be played in the restaurant, but these tattooed kids today…

Roda was managing and we saw him for a spell before heading home, Bill went right to bed and I soon after, after realizing that I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Plus I had the trip down the shore the next morning. Bill was gone after a nice kiss and I was up getting things together.

Made sure the iPod was charged, had plenty to read and headed off to the bus having decided to avoid the stress of the morning rush hour which I deal with every day. Why should I have to deal with thousands of people on my day off? It was a lot less crowded and I was able to walk outside to see if the latests Mojo and Uncut magazines were on the stand yet.

They weren’t, and I still had the New Yorker and Rip It Up by Simon Reynolds. Got on the bus to Toms River where I would have to transfer. Listened to Scritti Politti and read the sad article about the gay soldier killed in Iraq. Then some of Rip It Up and soon I was asleep, waking up just outside of Toms River.

The Toms River sky

About 20 minutes later the transfer bus shows up and I’m on that heading down the back streets of Highway 9. Contacted my sister in law Elaine and let her know I would soon be in Manahawkin. I was unfamiliar with the route and the map on the schedule was no help at all.

The bus driver told me she would drop me off at the Manahawkin library but I got out a before that at Lake Manhawkin, walked 100 yards and found Elaine with her friend Irene. Got to Ship Bottom where Frank was on the couch watching TV, much like he does on Garfield. But it’s his vacation and he’s entitled to do whatever he wants to do.

Elaine and I walked over to the beach around 4PM. Still hot and bright out and the water must have been in the 70 degree range. Elaine’s not one to play in the ocean so I floated around and got beaten up a bit by the waves, which I definitely enjoy, though it’s always more fun if there’s someone else with you getting knocked around by the tide.

Frank and Elaine

After an hour or so of that we headed back home, Frank in a different position on the couch, Irene on the porch reading a book. I showered and alternated sitting outside with the women and sitting inside with my brother. We microwaved some vittles and watched some TV, Frank and I going for a ride in his car, looking for some place featuring a Grateful Dead cover band the next night.

Thankfully we couldn’t find it. No Deadhead me, whereas Frank used to be and still is somewhat. We talked about music and somehow Pat Boone came up. We also talked about how he is trying to be more positive and stop being negative which in an amazing coincidence for someone who looks a lot like Frank, I am trying to do the same.

I had gotten an email before I left from Casey who said he had a good time and that Bill was one of the most positive people he’s ever met. And it’s true Bill is so damn positive and I’m not. Sometimes a conversation between Bill and myself goes,
Bill: Isn’t it great that so and so had this happen to them?
Me: No. No it isn’t.

So to hear Frank talk about trying to be positive was a weird thing to hear.

I took a walk by myself when I came home, to the beach where I was a bit intimidated by the vastness of the ocean, at night, seeing a boat far away in the darkness. Looking north I could watch a lightning storm miles away, all the while amazed by the hundreds of suns far away in the universe, some dying, some dead with the light just reaching us now.

The beach at night

I am always in awe of just looking up in the sky and seeing all that, but you really can’t see it in Hoboken due to the light pollution of New York City. I came home to Elaine and Irene soon going to their bedrooms and I stayed up with Frank watching some of the Colbert Report but the waves beating me up in the afternoon took it’s toll and soon I was asleep in bed.

And that’s where I had this odd dream about Pat Boone coming onto me, wanting to get a threesome going with Scott from Stevens Tech, unseen in the next room. In the dream Pat Boone was really hung. I woke up just then, and no I didn’t try to go back to sleep.

Got out of bed, and went and got coffee for the coffee drinkers. Went to the beach around 10:00. Not too crowded save for a group of Christianists praying in the sand. A youth group actually repeating whatever it is they were told. There were about 50 kids ranging from about 8 to 16, led by slightly older teenagers, cheerleaders for god.

Took a while for the water to warm up again, Elaine, Irene and myself enjoyed ourselves, the two of them collecting shells. After getting lunch for everyone I jumped in the water. We were sitting in the surfing area so I had to walk about 100 feet north. By that time there were a lot of people on the beach, a lot of families.

When I would go to the beach with Julio and Stine, we would make a point to get as far away from people as possible. It was impossible to do that at Ship Bottom but I made the most of it.

Elaine and Irene left around 2:00, I stayed until about 5:00, going back in the water and occasionally silently freaking out when my hand would brush a dead jellyfish. Dinner was Italian take out which was mediocre.

Just sat around and watched TV with Frank and drank sangria with Elaine on the porch. Since I was beaten up by the ocean so much more in the afternoon I wound up falling asleep at 9:00.

This time I dreamt I was driving the brown Ford Econoline from my HBJ days, driving in Manhattan with Zed my late cat and the namesake of this blog. Like I used to do, in the dream I was driving through Central Park and heading for Farfetched which was now located in a glitzy store in Times Square.

It seemed to be quite a success, enough so that neither Susan nor Lois, not even Harpy were working. I had to pick up something behind the counter and though I didn’t know the girl behind the register, she knew me. Zed and I were back heading through Central Park when I woke up and took a picture.

Then went back to sleep, waking up a little while later, Elaine and Irene cleaning up since we needed to be out by 11:00AM. I went out and got coffee and helped clean up when I got back. Took a walk on the beach, just a handful of people, fishermen and surfers out so early.

We were on the road in two cars, Elaine and Irene in one car, Frank and myself in his. Had a nice ride home talking about familiar subjects in every sense of the word. Now I am home and ready for a nap. Tonight’s plan, dinner with Julio and hanging out with Juan. So perhaps a disco nap is in order.

No nap, second wind, more pics…