Tag Archives: True Blood

I’m Not Scared

So yesterday was Sunday. And it was the second Sunday that I decided not to post. And it was also a day where I didn’t do anything. I did laundry so that’s something I suppose.

Yesterday, I heard from Pedro who was planning on spending his Sunday off (similar schedules, he at Riker’s, me in retail) with Connie and going to Summerstage. I would have liked to have gone but I had laundry to do, a bath tub to clean and Summerstage was too close to the cigar shop for my liking.

I politely told him no and he was cool with it. After the laundry and the bath tun scouring I was going to head over to the river and read The Other Wes Moore, by Wes Moore.

Unfortunately storm clouds rolled in and it rained steadily and violently on and off for about an hour. By the time it stopped a lot of the humidity was gone but everything was wet and still the storm clouds lingered.

I watched a Monty Python marathon on IFC instead and also played some guitar inside. I recorded something that sounded somewhat interesting a few months ago when I was unemployed but now I couldn’t figure it out. It sounded good to me and of course could use some work.

After that just watched some TV. While waiting for True Blood I did wander over to the supermarket and bought somethings for lunch this week. Working Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, off next Sunday and Monday.

I arranged to have off on Wednesday since in order to drum up some business for the cigar shop, I mentioned that I would go to a cigar night at The Eagle in Chelsea.

I have been invited several times before and never went but figured that now that I’ll be in the city at a late hour, what harm could come from going to a gay bar’s cigar night? Might as well go and see what it’s all about.

Of course I’d rather just go home, but it will be an experience. And considering my history of visiting gay bars it could just be a waste of time.

The store today was fairly busy which was surprising since from what I heard regarding Sunday it was quite dead. I guess Calvin, Sean and myself made up for it. Marcus was back from his Italian honeymoon looking dapper before he headed out for the day.

Once again there was no Moroccan Princes shopping for their father, the King. I did have a nice cigar while sitting on a bench by the park. Today’s brisk walk was courtesy of the Psychedelic Furs Talk Talk Talk album, from Pretty in Pink to Dumb Waiters, done in 16.4 minutes.

Avoided the clots on the escalator and climbed the staircase once again, two steps at a time but taking my time at the same time. And I did not fall on my hands and knees. Even caught the Willow Avenue bus and was home before 10:00 tonight.

Bill fast asleep already, poor baby, so tired.

True Blood was truly bloody last night and that’s all I have to say on that matter. I also saw Captain Fun hugging his girlfriend at a downtown bus stop this morning.

Appel Indirect

Getting ready to work the late shift again. Had some interesting dreams last night, specifically a dream where I was in Manhattan, around 57th Street.

I was at a bar which resembled the Carnegie Club, but it was a gay bar and instead of being behind Carnegie Hall it was right next door. I had some books or magazines and needed to get home but something kept me where I was.

I left and walked towards 6th Avenue, and soon I found myself in a taxi driven by a chatty and obliging driver who dropped me off near the bar I mentioned before. I got out of the cab and walked around a bit, when I realized I left the flip flops I was wearing in the cab.

I went to a store across the street from the bar and found some European merchants who sold me a pair for $3.99. Then I headed to the bar but I couldn’t find the entrance since there was a lot of scaffolding erected.

That’s when I woke up to the sound of Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran. Not my favorite song or band, but it certainly got me out of bed. Overcast day. I watched True Blood last night.

So much happening. A very fast hour. Nice butt on Eric. But I’m not an ass man, man. In started to watch Treme afterward when my old friend and former roommate Kevin called.

It was a fun talk almost 90 minutes. A wide range of subjects were touched on, friends, alcoholism, drugs, family, movies, Maxwells, bad choices and of course, art. Kevin is one of the best artists I know and it’s good to see he is still at it out there in Pennsylvania.

I am now friends with him on Facebook (which he recently reluctantly joined) and MySpace. My MySpace page was covered in cobwebs since I hardly ever go there. It was funny to find he’s friends with my sister in law Elaine’s nephew, John.

I made two new play lists for the store, one of Maria Callas with a smattering of Kiri Te Kanawa and another list of Django Reinhardt. Last week when I played the very long play list, when some opera came up Marcus was greatly impressed with it and I tried to find some more.

Unfortunately I had maybe two other songs which went into Malcolm McLaren’s Madam Butterfly. Last week I also raised some eyebrows when The Bird & the Bee’s song, Fucking Boyfriend came up.

You’d think that a room full of men smoking cigars wouldn’t have any problem with Inara George singing, ‘would you be my fucking boyfriend’, but they did. No one complained outright but a few comments were made so in order not to ruffle these sensitive feathers, I deleted it.

That as well as Bodies by the Sex Pistols.

It’s an overcast, muggy day and they’ve been saying that it might rain later on. For once they may be right. I’m wearing a suit that I don’t think I’ve worn in about 6 years. I wonder why that is.

I’m sure I’ll find out. I’ll be working later on and notice a tear or something that will remind me, just why this suit has been hanging in the closet. Better the suit than me I suppose.

Have a good day. I hope to.