This is from a few years ago. Taking a break from writing today.

A handsome ransom

It’s been a musical week people beeples. Starting on the jazz tip and ending up drinking from the well of glee. My honey Triple-5 and I started off on Tuesday seeing Diane Schuur at the Blue Note. Diane was wonderful. The company, Triple-5, and Danielle who is married to the sax player Triple-5 knows, Michael J. “Big Mac” MacArthur and I sat next to a trio from some where else besides metropolitan New York sitting next to a birthday woman and her husband, not interacting between Triple-5, myself and Danielle. Dianne Schuur was wonderful as I said. A wide range of songs including one written by Barry Manilow and Johnny Mercer which was quite touching, quite entertaining, and not the old badalax I heard she was.

Thursday morning, I got a call from Rita asking me if I wanted to see Cheap Trick. I said sure. I asked her where it was. I thought she said Roseland, but it was the Beacon Theatre. Quite a comfortable difference. I agreed in the morning, but in the afternoon I was frazzled. Didn’t want to go. Spoke to Triple-5 on the phone and wise-being that he is, told me that by the time I got to Rita’s apartment, I would be mellow. Since I would walk, Triple-5 reasoned, I’d probably smoke a cigar and be quite mellow by the time I got to Rita’s.

He was right.

I got to Rita’s, hung out for an hour or so, watched TV, which I haven’t done in a while and went to the show with Rita and her man Jerry. Saw the Jon Spencer Blues Experience open up, but they had lousy sound and being in the Beacon balcony, the sound was worse. They did a good version of what I think was “Yer Blues” by the Beatles. Cheap Trick hit the stage with excitement. They’ve been at it for 30 years and it being my first time seeing them, quite entertaining. It was the original band. Rick, Robin, Tom and Bun E. They seemed to love each other and the audience, and performed all their hits with no apologies. And Thom {Tom} Peterson is still very cute; Rick Nelson is still the showman; Robin Zander is still the voice and Bun E. the beat.

Got home mad late from that show to find Triple-5 waiting for me with candles and incense burning and a pizza in the oven and looking quite fabulous. The cherry on top of the evening.

Saturday; dismal day. Rain, rain, rain. I don’t mind. My niece Meghan is Festival Director of the New Jersey Folk Festival to which I volunteered Triple-5 and myself. It was rainy, rainy, rainy, but a good time. Felt good to help out. The usual gnat-like neurotics popped up from time to time but being armed with psychiatric off made all the difference in the Folk Festival world. Saw old friends Jon and Deena from The Cucumbers as Deena was doing a solo gig. Someone blessed Jon and Deena. Thank you. Great seeing brother Frank, his wife Elaine and daughter Meghan again. They would be off in a few hours to meet daughter Cory at EWR Airport returning from merry old England with a class trip. What a wonderful time to be 16.

Sunday had the weather that Saturday should have had. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, but since Sunday was a indoor thing, and Saturday was an outdoor thing, the gods of weather really screwed up BIG TIME. Triple-5, Mr. Isizm (Rode), el Jefe and his father and stepmother saw lady Gigglepuss perform with the Stevens Institute of Technology Glee Club. Being parched of glee, we drank deeply from the sit well of glee. The lady Gigglepuss dressed matronly with cummerbund and matching red bow tie. Sang beautifully with the women who dressed the same and the men in matching tuxedos from old Anglican spirituals to Elton and the Lion King. Their voices soared with varied accompaniments from alumni and professors. Wonderful, wonderful. I loved the lady Gigglepuss. What a wonder.

Quite a musical week. It’s been a while since I’ve had a varied musical pallet. Also bought the latest Ibrahim Ferrer, Orchestra Baobab and the White Stripes. All very good CD’s.

It was great seeing Mr. Ism at the glee function and wonderful to have him visit the crib after the show. Thanks for the truism, Mr. Ism.

Love, love, love.