Tag Archives: Syd Barrett

Cheeking Tongues

Things are fucking weird lately. I thought it was me, but it’s not. Perhaps it’s because of the sudden change in the weather. A week or so ago we had over a foot of snow in this area, now it’s pushing 60 degrees. I’m definitely not complaining about the weather.

I just got back from sitting by the river and finished the March issue of Mojo with Syd Barrett on the cover. A tragic story about old Syd. I knew the gist of it but now I know a little bit more. Like the 1970’s, people didn’t know how to put a hand out, perhaps saying ‘maybe doing LSD every day isn’t that good an idea’.

Lennon was the same way, nearly a casualty and Cynthia nor the other Beatles did anything about it. Of course I wasn’t there so I shouldn’t really say anything, all my info is third or fourth hand.

And if I was there, who would listen to a 5 year old, which is what I was in that acid drenched year of 1967. I had my own problems, just starting school, trying to stay out of Vietnam. You know the score.

Last night was decent. Nothing earth shattering to write about. I watched It Might Get Loud, a documentary of sorts featuring Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White. Jimmy Page, Mr Cool and mellow in this day and age. The Edge, I’m sure he’s a nice guy but he didn’t really do much for me but Jack White.

Wow, Jack White. Love his attitude, his approach, his philosophy. It’s worth watching if just for Jimmy Page and Jack White.

Had interesting dreams once again, cannabis free. One involved a Warhol exhibition of Andy’s paintings which seemed to be modeled on Edward Hopper’s work. I really don’t think Andy did any work like that.

In the dream I was on a bus headed to the exhibition and sitting next to old friend Eileen Lynch talking about the Warhol show in Chelsea I believe. Maybe I should or someone should do a series of Edward Hooper paintings in a Warhol style.

That wouldn’t be so weird considering so many photo stores advertise their services for doing photographs in the manner of Warhol’s portrait series from the 1970’s. If you saw them you’d know what I mean.

For some reason I wrote in my dream notepad ‘No, not Jasper Johns, but Jasper Johns’.

Another dream I had involved me finding a store by a motel I was staying at that sold Gauloises. That dream is probably stemming from the fact that I haven’t had a cigarette since last week. I’ve had a few cigars, but no more cigarettes.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision, it just happened.

In the dream I had that familiar blue pack of tobacco that I enjoyed for so long which suddenly became unavailable here in the states. In real life I got into an online argument with some wanker who called me a typical American who thinks the world revolved around the USA.

And all I had written was the fact that they were no longer available here. I’m sure I would be tempted to smoke cigarettes again if Gauloises made an appearance on the market again but we know it’s unlikely to happen.

That time I wrote faster than the processor could handle and that last line came out as ‘if Gauloises made an appeely to happen.’

So about the tease the other day, no it wasn’t about me giving up fags. It was about a plan for Bill and I to get a Civil Union license, document or what have you.

I had hoped Rand could be our witness but I think he’s been under the weather (he mentioned that after the parade)and didn’t respond to my message on Sunday. When he finally did respond, (not to the message but to the fact that I called and hung up instead of leaving a message on Monday) it was too late.

Bill was off in the city and both parties need to be present for a civil union. I did ask Jim Mastro who said he would witness but we both thought it would be at City Hall. Instead it will be at the Multi Service Community Center on Grand Street here in Hoboken.

Not around the block from the Guitar Bar as we had thought.

So I asked Stine who will witness with Alexander after they get out of their morning play session on Thursday. That was nice of her to be able to do so.

I saw Stine and Alexander this morning and it was funny to see Alexander having the same eye expressions as Julio. To the T, the rolling upwards of the eyes as if to say ‘Oh Brother’.

So now you know the plan. Bill and I getting legitimized somewhat in the eyes of the Hoboken city government. We’re registered at Regency Cigar Emporium at 752 Main Street, East Greenwich, RI 02818-3501 in case you were wondering.

Just send them an email and tell them my real name. They have my address as well as what I like. Just tell them to duplicate my last orders.

Cheeky ol’ me…

Things to read...

Things to read...


Places to see...

Places to see...

Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)

It’s a Friday, feels like a Saturday. Back in the day, when I lived in Lodi, this would be the day that my parents would go off to Cherry Hill, coming back on Sunday. That usually left my brother Brian and myself at home.

I would spend the day, walking up to the Garden State Plaza, buying records at Sam Goody, books at Schiller Books and then walking across Route 4, over the cloverleaf to Alexanders where records were $4.99 generally.

Maybe some cookies at David’s Cookies in Bamberger’s, or a cheap sandwich at Kresge’s. Then a walk home walking faster than the cars stuck in traffic on Rochelle Avenue. A simpler life it was then.

Don’t recall what Brian and I did for food, but being after Thanksgiving there were bound to be leftovers, pies and brownies and Pfeffernusse which would usually stay in a glass canister for months on end.

I remember one time Brian had a small party, I was upstairs watching Yellow Submarine on a black & white TV. Some friend of Brian’s was playing Dear Prudence on guitar which to my ears was amazing. I don’t remember his name but he also kept his pack of Marlboro in his Frye boots which I thought was sooo cool.

I suppose it must have been 1977 since I bought the 10th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone which made me somewhat hip, or so I thought. And that’s my memory from 32 years ago.

Right now, since nothing else is on I’m watching A Hard Day’s Night on VH1 Classics. Sure it’s distracting me from writing but it’s a fun distraction.

It’s been a giddy day for me today. Don’t know why but I’m not about to question it.

Maybe it had something to do with yet another cannabis free dream last night. This one, I was Bob Dylan’s assistant at his hotel somewhere in Manhattan. I had a problem dealing with his barbecue utensils & tongs so I asked a New York Times reporter in the next room what I should do with them.

Just then Bob entered and said not to touch them. Fine enough, I said I was leaving and I would see everyone tomorrow. As I was leaving the hotel room, in the hallway some guy grabs my arm and tells me to come with him.

Having no say in the matter I go with him and we wind up on the roof of the hotel. He starts telling me that he’s upset with the fact that I’ve been dealing weed in his hotel. Apparently he, and only he was allowed to do such dealings.

I plead my case, stating that it’s impossible, that I hadn’t smoked any weed in over a week! That actually got me off the hook.

I woke up to Bill watching Sanford & Son in the next room. After I got myself awake and alive, Bill and I walked around Hoboken a bit. Stopped by the Guitar Bar to say hello to Jim.

I bought a guitar strap with the Guitar Bar logo on it which Jim graciously took a couple of bucks off the price. I’d still love Jim even if he charged me full price.

Then it was off to the Post Office to pay some bills. Bill saw me put the local mail in the wrong slot and after the letter left my fingers he asked if I had put a stamp on it.

I know at the apartment I thought about using a Homer Simpson stamp and when Bill mentioned that I thought I did. But doubt being what it is, I got back on line and told a postal worker about what I might have done.

He directed me to walk down the hall to the customer service window. I rang the bell and told them and they retrieved the letter, with no stamp on it. Then I had to get back on line and buy some stamps.

Being in a giddy mood, almost manic, I chatted with the man behind the glass, answering his question about using a credit card with a ‘Yes, Ma’am’. ‘Ma’am?’ he remarked and I apologized with him saying in turn, ‘It’s OK, Miss’. It was all a big giggle.

Came home Bill took a nap since he’s working from 6:00PM to 6:00AM. Overtime rarely comes to his office and he jumped at the chance. I changed my guitar strap, played some songs, Elton, Beck, Simon & Garfunkel, and Elvis Costello. Trying to figure out La Vie en Rose as well.

Woke Bill up at 4:00 by standing over him and playing The Lion Sleeps Tonight. A giddy day. Giddy I tell you, Giddy!