Another trip down memory lane for me. I used to feel like such an adult when I visited the since-shuttered Garage Jazz Club in the West Village. It felt like such a classy joint. It was okay. It never had the beer I was interested in drinking. It was more a wine and cocktails sort of place.
The last time I was there I sat where that arrow is pointing. Sat there for about an hour and then left to go to another joint. Now it’s gone.
My TV has been on the SundanceTV channel for days because I was watching Law & Order and I haven’t had the strength to change the channel since. This movie is on right now. Surprisingly good, I think. And Felicity Jones. Hubba-hubba.
A few nights ago I purchased The Exorcist on Blu Ray. It will be the first time I have owned the film on any format. This is important and I will tell you why.
In 1974 my parents got into an argument. My mother stormed out of our Brooklyn apartment with me in tow. I was four years old. With nowhere to go, she decided to go to the movies. The movie she chose? The Exorcist.
The Exorcist was not only the first film I had ever seen in a movie theater but it is one of my earliest memories. It horrified me. I saw the entire film with my tiny hands on my face waiting to shield my eyes from whatever tomfoolery the devil had for Linda Blair.
When I decide to settle in and pop the disc into my Blu Ray machine, it will be the first time I have see the film in its entirety in forty two years. Wish me luck.
It’s been Gershwin for the last four days. Gershwin on the way to work, Gershwin on the way home and Gershwin while I sleep. Just Gershwin.
The young lady behind the counter handed me my tall coffee and I poured it down my throat as quickly as I could stand it. I carried the empty cup for a few blocks before I threw it into a garbage can that looked like a relic from the 1970’s New York. It was dented and stunted from years of being thrown in and out of garbage trucks.
The young lady was distracted by a young couple who were making out in the far corner of the coffee shop so much so that she forgot that I didn’t pay for my coffee. I reminded her though.
Some days are better than others. Obviously. Today was a good day. Not better than a year and nine days ago, though. That day was wonderful. Like a dream. Today was generic. Sometimes generic is good.
Time for more Gershwin.