It’s July 3rd. It’s a Saturday. I have to work. Or rather, had to work. I didn’t mind. The day started off with the Supremes singing Love Child. Actually there were a few other songs that played before I hit the snooze button, but Love Child was the one that registered.
I set about starting my day. Julio called offering to buy bagels but I had to turn him down since I wouldn’t have any time to eat them. I did have time to check emails and such while the morning news played on behind me.
As I checked the email, I heard a report of an accident in New York Harbor by the Statue of Liberty. What may have happened was that two boats were near the statue, perhaps anchored when a larger boat cruised past creating a large wake causing the larger of the two boats to rise out of the water and land on the smaller boat.
There were three people in the smaller boat when the larger boat landed atop of it, killing one of the three. The other two were rushed to the hospital. The driver of the larger boat was charged with boating under the influence and vehicular homicide.
I knew the driver of the larger boat. The company he works for sublet office space from Bio-IB in the last year I was working there. He was a nice guy, one of the few in the group of Israeli conservatives. It’s a shame all around.
It was a shock to hear the name of someone you know on the news. I expect more will be said later on the 11:00 News.
After all that I was waiting for the bus where Rand stopped by for a few minutes, telling tales of his fun times at Maxwells the past few nights. Unfortunately the bus was fast approaching and I had to get on it to get to work on time.
Still reading You Never Give Me Your Money by Peter Doggett. Such nastiness between John, Paul, George & Ringo. Mainly John, George & Ringo with Allen Klein against Paul. Bitchiness, drugs, booze and Hare Krishna. A gripping read.
Got to the shop on time, hardly anyone in midtown Manhattan except for tourists. It was a slow day and there was only one register functioning since the other register was fucked up last night, and not because it was short.
It was slow enough that one register was all that was needed anyhow. Some of the usual customers who hadn’t fled the city came in, including one opera singer who dislikes me.
Calvin & I discussed this and figured out that it was probably because the opera singer, let’s call him Pagliacci, is deeply closeted and I am not. Calvin remembered that when Pagliacci and I first met, he wasn’t the usual jovial self he seems to be with everyone else.
In fact he quickly withdrew his hand after a brief handshake, whereas with everyone else he’s glad handing Andy. No skin off my back, I couldn’t care any less.
Came home by 10:00, from the cigar shop to the bus terminal in 15.4 minutes, courtesy of the Raybeats.
Bill is on his way home. There was an accident, some woman sideswiped his bus. No injuries, no passengers on the bus. He’s not too happy, and that’s understandable.
