I was having coffee in the East Village with a friend when he let it slip that he had been on a reality TV show. He was rather casual about it until I reminded him that I was from the Midwest and he doesn’t have to pull that blasé New York bullshit with me. He then spoke about it excitedly but in a low voice so that the other customers wouldn’t know he enjoyed it. From what I gathered it was similar to project runway but with hair styles.

“Where can I see this show?”

“It’s still playing in Sweden.”

While I’m interested in seeing my friend on this show I’m not ‘travel to Sweden’ interested and so I had to make do with youtube. It’s true. But that isn’t really what I want to talk about.

As we were leaving Yaffa Café on St. Marks Place he pointed to the building across the street. “That’s where the Rolling Stone video Waiting on a Friend was shot.”

“Woooo back up. You wasted my time with your bullshit reality show talk when all the while we’ve been sitting across from the stoop from “Waiting on a Friend.” “

“It’s also the building used in the album cover for Physical Graffiti for Led Zeplin” he said “and Jeff Buckley used to perform down the street”

“You could do tours of New York- focusing on the East Village” I said wondering how I could get a cut of that action.

“Alan Ginsburg lived in my building”

“Jesus dude you’re sitting on a goldmine!”

“It was just in my building, not my apartment.” He lamented.

They don’t have to know that- charge people to tour your apartment. We’ll scribble some “original” verses of “Howl” on the wall.

I told him of my plan to charge people money to bathe in the bathtub Jim Morrison was found dead.

Who wouldn’t pay $1,000 dollars to smoke a joint in and that tub? He asked

Right?

I feel as though I found a kindred spirit.

Looking for a justification I tried to put a philosophical
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true, people will think it is- which is a form of truth in itself.”

“That’s true… or a form of truth. It’s almost like performance art”

“It’s exactly like performance art!” I cried. “At least that’s what we’ll say if there’s an inquiry.”

We got quiet for a moment while I snapped a photo of the building.

“…but this really is the “Waiting On A Friend Building, right?” I asked

“I think so.”

Workmate: So when are you going to Gay Paree?

Misplaced: August 8th we fly out.

Workmate: You looking forward to GAY Paree?

Misplaced: I get it , Paris is Gay right?

Workmate: Heeheee GAY Paree

Misplaced: (walking away, shaking head) What a numb-nut

We had a book group last Saturday night on The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud. It was my first book club and a very pleasant experience.


One woman was much too enthusiastic about the whole book club concept and wanted to know who had read the book.
"Did you read it?" she demanded from me early on.
"Yes I did -but I don't think a lot of people finished it" I responded, wondering who the hell she was but more than willing to rat people out.
"Oh" she said in a fright, "People have to read the book." She raced around the party looking for the remiss book club members "Did you read it?" she asked an equally confused man I'd never seen before. Their voices trailed off.

"I didn't read it," said Ken and took a drink. He had waited to approach until after she had left.
"I figured as much", I replied.
When I visited Ken's apartment several years ago he had two paperback books on his window sill, there were no other books in the place.
"Did you read all those?" I had asked him, pointing to the two books, he looked at the books and seemed confused as to why they were there and went back to watching golf on TV. Some people aren't readers.

There were 16 people discussing the book which seems like too many, especially when you throw liberal drinking into the mix.

Joe hadn't read the book but that didn't keep him from discussing it, and drunkeenly assault anyone that disagreed with him "9/11 changed everyone!!" he barked at us. It was quiet as we all tried to figure out what in the Sam Hill he was talking about.

Chuck spent most of the night explaining what happened in the book to the prettiest and youngest woman there, K- and Ken's wife, Felicia.
"Does it seem like Chuck is always trying to pick up our wives?" I asked Ken.
"Yup, everytime we get together", Ken responded. We watched for a minute and then went to the kitchen to get more snacks.

K- got tired and wanted to leave.
Joe's wife offered to host the next book club and would let us know the book.
Ken promised to read it but asked that it be at least under 300 pages.
Joe got mad at me, for some reason, and flipped me off

It's funny, many years ago I used to be chased by the police with some of these people now we are discussing books. There were no fights, no tears, no drunken hook-ups. Where have all the good times gone?

Bones and I were sitting around the coffee shop, not doing much of anything.

Bones: "My kid aint spoke to me in 30 years" Bones began.

Midwest: "That seems kind of extreme, maybe he needs to get over whatever his problem with you is."

Bones: "Nah...I hit him around too many times, he got the right to not talk to me"

There really isn't much to be said after that. He looked genuinely sad. I don't think I'd ever seen remorse in his face. I had a mental picture of him in his prime; thin, wirey and violent- straight razor in his sock, which he still carries. I could imagine all the damage he had done yet all I could see before me was a thin old man, with faded tattoos, staring at his hands, regretting that he hit his son one too many times. He was no longer interested or able to hide the regrets and the loneliness.

Midwest: "The best thing he can do for himselddf is get over it"

Bones: "There are somethings you can never make right, that's just how that is, anyone tell you differently is lying or never did the things I done."

I no longer saw the old man who acquaintance, but a young punk who would have killed me over $20 or a misunderstanding. Bones was right, he should have died, he should never have lived past his prime. His hell is being as feeble and weak as the people he preyed upon.

Here's an actual conversation I had with Bones awhile back.


“Misplaced, I was married to the ugliest white woman in the midwest. Her name was Hatchet Mary. She was called Hatchet Mary because she always carried an axe with her. She saved my ass many times. Whenever some guy wanted to beat the shit out of me because my crocodile mouth was always biting off my than by blue bird ass could handle she would knock over a bar stool and start swinging that ax. She chased more than one man out of the bar. But man believe me when I tell you she was ugly.”

...and with no segue or warning he said, “It was a damn shame when they legalized abortion, me a Mary had quiet a little business going”

The last line startled me. "Damn, Bones you need to warn a guy before you roll there."

He just cackled like an old woman. "Life comes at you like that sometimes"

The conversation turned to bank robbery. I said that I have always wanted to rob a bank. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, hell I didn’t even want to have a gun, but I always wanted to rob a bank. I think that everyone secretly wants to do that- Jesse James, Bonnie and Clyde, we wouldn’t recognize these names if we all didn’t, deep down inside, want to do what they did.

Bobby V agreed, he’d like to rob a bank. He looked at Bones, who at 80 plus years had very little to lose and lacked morals. "Bones you can drive the get away car". Bones looked indignant, "Hell no I ain’t driving no get away car, I’m going in."

In truth Bones had more nerve than any of us and I have seen him drive, we don’t want him driving the get away car. A 25 mile an hour car chase isn’t needed at this point in my life. He may think Johnny Cash is a pussy and he may have spent a lot of time in jail but he drives like an old lady. I’d never tell him that because the man can hold a resentment and he’d probably drive off and leave me after we held up the bank -of course I’d get away faster waiting for the bus. Still I don’t need Bones as an enemy. I was there when he reached across the table and bitch slapped some 20 year old punk and then threw hot coffee on him for good measure. But then he almost cried when he was barred from the coffee shop for a 30 days. He’s in a weird time in his life angry enough to kick ass but too old to hide the fact that he gets lonely.

I don’t know how old he is. Older than dirt is what he tells me. He could be 80 but he also has had a tough life and might be 70 and just look older. He has a full head of white hair which is always brushed straight back. He is skinny, but that’s not why they call him Bones. He has faded green tattoos. I have never been able to tell what they are tattoos of, it just looks like a green birth marks. He wears over sized clear glasses. His eyes are wet blue.

We are sitting around the table at the coffee shop. Bobby V is behind the bar. We are always sitting around the table, Bobby V is always behind the bar. We look to the TV when the conversation dies out. Something on the TV will spark another conversation, we will each speak, as experts, on whatever topic the news is on. It could be drugs, Johnny Cash, terrorism, beauty pageants, child molestation, doesn't matter. A conversation will be started.

"Johnny Cash was a pussy, he sang about doing time but he never did any except for some bullshit charge for drugs."
"What the hell kind a woman gonna let her children run around a bar."
"Why the hell she leave her kid with that sick motherfucker?"
"Can you believe that dumb sonofabitch got caught? You know he was bragging, that's how they got him"


The conversation will slowly begin to take on a life of its own- it will start to hum and can be disconnected from life support (the TV). It almost sounds like an old VW bus we had, it would start out slow, build some momentum begin to roar and slowly sputter out and die. When the conversation died we'd all look to the TV searching for a new topic. Taxes, political corruption, spouse abuse, rape something would come along that we could discuss at length and end an uncomfortable silence.