It’s a Sunday. It’s May 2nd. It was 90 degrees this afternoon. It was the day of the Hoboken Art & Music Festival or as some snarky types are fond of calling it, the Fart & Mucous Festival. I usually attend with Rand but this time Rand is in Lucerne doing things in the name of Jack Kirby.
Last night was quite warm. I sat around and sweated in my underwear. Too damn hot for me, too damn hot for May 1st. But what can I do?
Bill was driving to Atlantic City and when I tracked him on Google Latitude, it had him in East Orange, then headed to San Antonio, and then finally over the border into Mexico. Somehow he wound back on the Garden State Parkway, headed to Atlantic City again.
At least he wasn’t in Times Square where a park car, loaded with propane tanks, fireworks and gasoline started to go up in flames but thanks to the attentions of a T-Shirt vendor it did not blow up. I found out about in around 11:00PM, a few hours after the whole thing started.
I was watching the Philadelphia Story on PBS, Funny that I wrote about High Society a week or so ago and how much I prefer The Philadelphia Story to the Cole Porter musical. I still feel that way.
Opted not to watch a repeat of Saturday Night Live instead watched a repeat of Lost which in retrospect is quite interesting since there’s only 3 or 4 more weeks left in that series.
The Death of Charlie was one of the stories and the other episode filled me in somewhat on how it will end. Jack will assume Jacob’s role and Locke will remain the Smoke Monster. That’s what I think.
Thanks to melatonin I slept really well. Woke up later than expected, but still had enough time to go out and participate in something the New York Times was promoting, basically a snapshot at 11:00AM.
All over the world at 1500 hours Greenwich Time they asked people to take a picture of something and send it in. I walked over to 5th and Washington and took 20 photos, 5 each for North, East, West and South.
Then I came home and uploaded them, deciding to send one pic of a northern view to the website. Or maybe it was the southern view. Eastern? Western? I don’t remember. It was good that today was the street festival, enabling me to stand in the middle of the boulevard and take pictures in all directions.
Bill came home and immediately went to bed and I made myself a nice breakfast. An hour or so later Roger Johansen posted onto Facebook that Jack Skuller was playing and worth checking out. So I headed out with my camera again, walking on the sidewalks since walking on the street had gotten way too crowded and let’s face it, some people cannot walk.
Not the ones in wheelchairs and other mobile things, but simply walking one foot in front of another was a near impossible chore. And the temperature was going up (now it’s 83°) and I was getting sweaty.
Jack Skuller is a
16 year old rock and roller 14 year old rock and roller and it’s good that he’s up there doing things like that, playing guitar and singing. My sister called which got me away from the stage area and found a not so quiet spot to converse with her.
When I was through talking to Annemarie, Jack Skuller was off the stage. I did run into Mike Carlucci who I actually wrote about yesterday. I even told him I wrote about him giving me guitar lessons. Roger sauntered up with his friend Tim.
Mike had just done some recording and I introduced Mike to Roger who now runs a mastering studio. Hopefully they will connect. Hopefully the DNA Cup will be out of the picture. It was good to see Mike again. He’s a nice guy and an excellent guitarist.
I headed over to the river which was even more crowded than usual, people like me trying to avoid the throngs on Washington Street. I enjoyed a cigar and read the New Yorker. Way too crowded to bring out the guitar even though I probably could have made some money. At least some pocket change.
Came home, Bill slowly stirring. I just sat around and listened to Carole King, Tapestry. Don’t know why, seemed most apt for a day like today. Bill was soon up and out the door headed to a rehearsal.
I tried to cool myself off and eventually headed out to see Fountains of Wayne who were headlining the festival. I stayed for a few songs, ultimately realizing that I don’t know any Fountains of Wayne songs and the ones I was hearing weren’t exactly enticing me to stay.
Walked back through the crowds which had thinned somewhat. Perhaps it was the La Flor Dominicana Double Ligero I was smoking. I passed by the Hoboken Smoke Shop stand which is the worst cigar shop in Hudson County. Even pricier cigars than in Manhattan with less of a tax rate.
So I walked back through the crowds and came home yet again.