Tag Archives: music

And So It Goes

Today is Tuesday, November 11, 2025, Veterans Day 2025. I will post a comparison between this so-called president and what a former president did on this sacred holiday, but now, I’ll just state how much of a hoot Nashville was over the last four days. Elliot and I chose this destination for my upcoming birthday on Saturday, November 8, and we flew out to Nashville last Thursday, November 6. We had one friend with us, “Harvey,” who met us Thursday night at our hotel near Vanderbilt University.

The four days were marked by unseasonably warm weather for the first three days until an arctic blast moved in on Sunday and held its grip on the city until the day we left, which was Monday morning. Not surprisingly, when we got back to the Big Apple, a new moniker for our city could be the “Frigid Apple,” since the weather from Nashville accompanied us back to the Northeast. The temperature out there now is only 38 degrees, but it feels like 23 degrees, according to my weather app. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to be a balmy 48 degrees.

The time spent in Nashville went very quickly. The first day was spent basically flying to the Music Capital of the country. We got to the hotel, the Hyatt House at Vanderbilt, after 3 or so – I can’t recall exactly the time – but we still had to wait for my friend Harvey to arrive. He had a later flight out of Newark and wasn’t slated to arrive before 6. So I had the energy to check in and do some walking around the neighborhood. I learned that there was a Vanderbilt Bookstore, so I spent most of the afternoon looking for it. I made my way onto the campus, falsely believing it was on campus, and finally realized it was on West End Avenue instead. There I spent a while scouring the shelves and eventually decided to buy a remainder book called A Life of My Own, by Claire Tomalin. I really didn’t know her at all; she has written biographies of great authors like Charles Dickens, Samuel Pepys, and Thomas Hardy. This was a memoir of her own life growing up in London throughout the mid-20th century. Hell, it was only $5.00, reduced from $17. I thought it was a great bargain. And I’m 100 pages into it already.

When Harvey arrived, it was late already – and dark. So we decided to go not that far from the hotel. We settled on a Tex-Mex place called Little Rey, which was just a block away from the hotel. It wasn’t a white-tablecloth dining experience, to say the least. But it would do since we wanted something fast and something quick. At least I didn’t have indigestion from what I ate.

The next day we met for breakfast in the hotel dining room around 8:30 or so. This was not a sleeping holiday, by no means. I would have to wait until getting home to do that. Every day I had to set my phone alarm. After breakfast, we set out to walk to downtown Nashville, which was about a mile or so away. The weather was gorgeous that day, as I previously wrote. So we walked then and discovered the vertical magnificence of the city. There were so many tall towers everywhere as we made our way to the main downtown hub that included many of those well-known music venues. Our goal was to go to the Nashville Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, located on Rep. John Lewis Way South. We bought tickets there instead of buying them online. We spent, maybe, about an hour or so on just one floor before breaking up to go to lunch.

We had lunch at the very popular chicken joint called Hattie B’s in town, where we had to wait about a half hour on line to get in. The place is famous for its Nashville-style hot chicken and its wide range of heat levels like “mild,” “medium,” and “hot.” Other levels include “damn hot” and “shut the cluck up!” Little old nonspice me asked for the mildest temperature and no spice on the chicken. We chipped in for sharing their fired pickles, which I couldn’t ingest too much of. The two sides I ordered were the baked beans and the creamy coleslaw. Both were quite good.

After lunch, the two guys wandered off together, while I made my way back to the museum. You see, if you keep your ticket, you can use it anytime the day you purchase it. I wanted to see at least one more floor before calling it quits. My friend in Cherry Hill would be proud of me since I practically closed the museum by leaving around 5, closing time. At that time, it was raining outside, and I decided to take an Uber back to the hotel.

Elliot had planned a very nice prebirthday dinner for the three of us at this place called Husk, but the only time he could get for Friday night was 7:45 p.m. Unfortunately, Harvey decided to bow out since the time didn’t square with his usual schedule of having his bigger meal during the afternoon, not much later. Thus the restaurant saw only the two of us in their very cosy interior. Their social media page says it is “nestled in the charming quiet oasis of the Rutledge Hill neighborhood near downtown. Husk Nashville is housed in a refurbished 1880s historic home that was once the residence of a 19th-century Nashville mayor.” It certainly did look like it was a private residence when we walked in and were led to a round table near a fireplace.

When we saw the skimpy menu, we decided to order what we thought would be tantalizing: Alabama shrimp as an appetizer and share a 10-ounce strip steak. We also shared the buttermilk cheddar biscuits. For dessert, we ordered the noble spring chèvre mousse. Everything was quite delicious.

The next day, Saturday, we all met for breakfast once more. That day, we walked back into downtown where we accidentally saw a sign for the Pancake Pantry which is near the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. It is also near the Johnny Cash Museum. Originally, we were going to this most popular eatery on Sunday, but since we saw the line for it on Saturday, I decided to wait with everyone else. This spontaneity on my part stirred Harvey to grouse slightly over my rash decision to get on line, but I persevered and stood my ground. Here Harvey left the line to get coffee up the block at The Diner. Harvey actually left us to wait on line to get to the Bridgestone Arena where he was going to attend a hockey game.

After waiting on line for about 20 minutes or so and speaking to some visitors to the city in front of us, Elliot and I were finally ushered to an outside table. I was so excited to order their signature fare: pancakes. And when I finally got my wish to ingest these fluffy pancakes, I was a little disappointed. Comparing these pancakes to those made at the Jax Inn Diner in Jackson Heights, I can quickly say the latter are much better. Sorry, Pancake Pantry, that’s how I feel.

Next I made my way up the block to the Johnny Cash Museum which I saw as much as I could in just two hours or more. I knew very little of the Man in Black, but this museum had so much memorabilia from his life which was just so informative as it provided so many details about his life and career. I strongly recommend going to this museum for anyone interested in Cash’s life.

The highlight of the trip occurred on my birthday when Elliot and I went to the Grand Ole Opry at 5:30 p.m. There were eight acts scheduled to perform that night, and we saw only seven since Elliot preferred to leave before the last act got on stage. None of the names scheduled to perform that night were known to me. There were square dancers on the bill and fiddle champions as well. The other six acts were typical country music performers like “Whispering” Bill Anderson who admitted that he began his career as early as 1964, and he looked it.

This new hall is located way out of town, which necessitated us taking an Uber for more than 20 minutes and going on the highway. The old venue was in Ryman Auditorium which was much closer downtown. But no more! This new glitzier arena has so much around it like other stores and restaurants. Sadly, we had no time to explore the area since we got to the music hall closer to 7. Also, we had no time to have dinner that evening, so I just nibbled on a bag of popcorn during the 20-minute intermission.

Our last full day, Sunday, was spent taking the Nashville Old Town Trolley tour which takes you to 13 stops along the way. We had some difficulty in finding the stop closer to our hotel, but we finally managed to find it after having breakfast somewhere else this time. We had breakfast at some hotel that featured a restaurant inside. I do recall that our waiter was a very nice-looking young man who engaged me in conversation about serial killers.

That night, Elliot and I separated from Harvey again to have spare ribs at a local eatery called Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint, located on Elliston Place, which was not far from the hotel. But Elliot insisted we take an Uber again, so I called for one. The reason was that it was now late, dark, and cold. The place was very informal; it had the same setup as at Hattie B’s, where you walked up to a counter and put in your order. You were given a number on a stick and you left it at your table. I got a half rack of ribs and couldn’t finish the whole thing.

Well, that’s it for our Nashville trip. The next morning we woke up at 6:30, met Harvey for breakfast around 7:30, and said goodbye to him after the meal. We were leaving around 8:15, and he had to stay quite late for a much later flight. I later learned today that Harvey’s flight was delayed for hours because of the government shutdown and he didn’t get into his house until around 2 a.m. Sheesh!

Now back to the buffoon attending the annual wreath-laying ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery in honor of the fallen soldiers throughout the wars. An online Mirror article by Jack Hobbs entitled “Five topics Trump discussed in Veterans Day speech – from Joe Biden to B-2 bombers” discusses the true insanity behind Drumpf’s speech which is quite embarrassing as usual. Unable to even give a reasoned, typical speech about how this holiday is significant for all Americans, the idiot in chief veered away from the general topic and started discussing tangential topics that had no relevance to the event at hand. He discussed his predecessor Joe Biden, something about the B-2 bomber, and the renaming of the Department of Defense to War. In all, the madman’s speech lasted around 20 minutes, and I heard none of it on mainstream media.

It appeared that Drumpf veered off topic in the first three minutes of his speech. He spent much of his opening remarks bizarrely thanking members of his Cabinet, that one which is loaded with idiots like him. He also acknowledged pedophile Johnson who, according to him, “will go down as a great man someday.” Hmm, as a fascist maybe and Trump toady, but not a great man, in my opinion. The idiot in charge also called out Office of Management and Budget Director Russ Vought, the real author of the controversial Project 2025 plan. He kept on heaping praise on this clown for “cutting, cutting, and cutting.”

The asshole even proposed changing the name of Veterans Day to “Victory” Day which will be not loved by veterans anywhere. Drumpf also touted America’a current military strength. He praised “Beautiful B-2 bombers. Aren’t they beautiful now?” Any of this gobbledegook if mentioned by a Democratic president like Joe Biden would be denounced by everyone in the media, but since this is Donald J. Chump, we hear practically nothing.

In the meantime, as this sitting president was giving a cringeworthy speech on the occasion, a real president like former President Barack Obama surprised an entire planeload of veterans who were flying to Washington, D.C., to participate in Veterans Day marches today by offering heartfelt thanks for their contribution to American freedom and shaking each and every veteran’s hand as they deplaned. Could you see fat Dump doing the same? Of course not! He couldn’t shake any person’s hand since he’s such a germaphobe!

Have a great Wednesday.

And so it went!

Here are some pics from our Nashville trip! Hope you enjoy them. I’ll include just some today; I’ll print more tomorrow.

Here is downtown Nashville as we walked to it from our hotel.

The front of the Johnny Cash Museum that I visited on Saturday.

Here is a discography of the Man in Black.

This whole wall contained all of Cash’s list of LPs which was huge!

This is Tootsie’s world-famous lounge. I have to admit that both Elliot and Harvey found the music blaring out of these places so deafening that they didn’t even set foot in one of these venues. And I didn’t either!

These are boots and a silk shirt that Cash wore on occasion.

And So It Goes

Today is Friday, October 31, 2025. Happy Halloween, ghosties! As you know, I was going to brave the brutal weather yesterday in seeing Psycho in concert at the David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic playing the inimitable score of Bernard Herrmann on stage. For those not familiar with Hermann’s scores, I’ll provide you some background information on this man’s illustrious career later on.

Yesterday the weather was quite rainy and windy, and I had no intention of giving up my ticket to this groundbreaking film that gave birth to the modern horror film by staying home. So I took my trusty pink umbrella, put on my blue-zippered jacket, and left the borough around 3. I was scheduled to meet my friend “Harvey” at The Smith, located on 63rd Street and Broadway, around 4:15. However, I got to the West Side earlier than scheduled, so I darted into Breads Bakery for a cup of coffee and a croissant. Yes, I could still have dinner at 4:30 or 4:45 or even later after nibbling on a croissant just several minutes before.

As I was drinking my third cup of coffee, my phone rings, and it’s Harvey who says he’s already inside The Smith having a beer at the bar. I mentioned I was directly adjacent to the restaurant and that I would come by once I was finished with my repast.

After finishing my coffee and croissant, I walked directly across the street to the restaurant and spoke to a hostess inside. I mentioned that I had a 4:30 reservation and that someone could be here already. I saw Harvey right away; there weren’t that many customers having drinks at the bar at that time, and he started coming toward me.

We were ushered then to a table where we examined the menu and exchanged stories about traveling in this terrible weather. I mentioned I couldn’t believe how my umbrella didn’t self-destruct in these blustery winds.

Dinner was quite good; it consisted of us sharing crispy calamari and my having ricotta gnocchi, while Harvey had oysters initially. I eschewed dessert, but Harvey couldn’t resist the ice cream.

After dinner, we had some time to kill so we walked further uptown and, to our surprise, discovered another Strand Bookstore on 67th Street, I believe. Thus we browsed inside for a while before deciding it was time to head back to Lincoln Center. I almost bought an old Norman Mailer book on the Used Book shelves, but thought better of it.

Now to the concert that began a little after 7:30. The young conductor of the orchestra was Stephen Mulligan and there was a principal violinist by the name of Hae-Young Ham. They appeared on stage, while a large screen loomed behind them. That’s where we watched this 1960 thriller.

We were on the Second Tier, Door 22, Row DD, seats 2 and 3. We were in the last row in the back of the theater. That is the reason, I think, that we found the sound from the orchestra not as overpowering as we thought it would be. Also, the instruments used for the score were all strings here, and a note in the program explains why Herrmann decided to go this way instead of using a full-throttle orchestra for the menacing score heard throughout the shocker. The reason he did this, according to the program, is that he wanted “to complement the black-and-white photography of the film with a black-and-white score,” thus the use of strings only without the employment of woodwinds, brass, or percussion. In fact, Harvey asked me why there weren’t other types of instruments used in this show, and I pointed out Herrmann’s philosophy as the explanation.

Anyway, it seems as the audience thoroughly enjoyed this version of the film. I’m very curious to know how many audience members had seen this film for the first time last night. As I scanned the audience, I couldn’t make out many younger folk – like those in their 20s or 30s. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t there.

As I mentioned, Bernard Herrmann provided six scores for the temperamental director. He started with scoring Hitchcock’s 1955 principal comedy, The Trouble with Harry, 1956’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, The Wrong Man, also from 1956, 1958’s Vertigo, the espionage caper North by Northwest, from 1959, and 1963’s The Birds.

Herrmann was New York-born and bred and graduated from DeWitt Clinton High School in the Bronx (my former childhood birthplace), New York University, and The Juilliard School. He formed his own ensemble in 1931, the New Chamber Orchestra, to explore avant-garde repertoire. In 1934, he joined the staff of CBS as an arranger and rehearsal conductor. His scores for Orson Welles’s radio shows led to an invitation to write the music for two of that director’s films, Citizen Kane (1941) and The Magnificent Ambersons (1942). Thus began a 35-year record of writing musical scores for film and television that kept the composer quite busy. Herrmann died the night he finished scoring the music for Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1975). In total, Herrmann composed the scores for 51 films, not to mention a good many radio productions, television shows, concert shows, and even an opera.

As for Psycho, the film “set a horror standard for generations to come,” according to our program. It also depicted frank discussions of sexual situations and even mentioned transvestism at the end of the movie, which was quite unusual for commercial films at the time. Also, this was the first time a toilet was actually flushed in a film, when the doomed heroine, Marion Crane, portrayed by Janet Leigh, Jamie Lee Curtis’s mother, flushes a piece of paper down the toilet in her cabin, Cabin 1. This happens just before the shocking and infamous shower scene. If you really examine the thrusting of the knife here, you will actually see that the knife does not penetrate Leigh’s skin at all. This is so different from slasher movies today that depict the most graphic effects of being knifed by dastardly characters all the time.

Anyway, this was Halloween and you wouldn’t know it. We met Elliot’s daughter in Rockville Centre at Press 195, a sandwich and burger joint, where “Emily” paid for our lunch. She wanted to honor both Elliot’s and my upcoming birthday in November.

From lunch, we drove to see “Joseph” at the rehab center where he’s still staying and recovering from surgery on a broken hip sustained in a fall at the center. We stayed about an hour and brought him a slice of pizza and three Diet Coke bottles. He was very appreciative of that. Within 20 minutes or so, we were joined by his wife, “Mary.” This was our cue to leave.

It’s getting late here, so have a good weekend.

Oh, tomorrow Elliot and I will be attending a dinner at Beth-El, in Jersey City, a gala dedicated to Elliot’s late aunt’s estate funding of a refurbished community center opening tomorrow, so I’ll not be writing my blog on Saturday. The event starts at 7, and I don’t expect to be home before 11. I’ll see you on Sunday, November 2.

And so it went!

Here’s the auditorium early on before the film began at 7:30.

Here is the playbill from the program at Lincoln Center.

Here is a view from down below. Maybe I could be suffering from “Vertigo” by looking down.

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, October 5, 2025. Yesterday was quite a busy day for Elliot and me, as we sallied forth early in the morning to meet “Seth” at Jax Inn Diner, in Jackson Heights. Originally, I was going to meet Seth alone, but I decided we could both go because I intended to go to Lincoln Center to purchase tickets for the Psycho concert on October 30. We could then drive to the nearest subway station together and park the car there and pick it up later, which is what we did. We then were going to see a new film at the Angelika Theater called The History of Sound, a gay romantic movie punctuated by the inevitable heartache and loss, much in the vein of Brokeback Mountain, made 20 years ago.

After having a very filling breakfast at the diner (I had a bowl of oatmeal and a short stack of pancakes, which is the diner’s specialty) which was so busy when we got there that we had to find parking on the street, Seth made the proclamation that he was going to Lincoln Center also in order to purchase tickets for Ragtime at the Vivian Beaumont Theater. We arranged a time where we would meet each other after everyone bought their tickets.

So we said our goodbyes outside the diner, while we got into our car and drove to 46th Street and Broadway to take the R train downtown. We got off at 57th Street and 7th Avenue and then walked to Lincoln Center. When we neared the David Geffen Hall where I had to buy the tickets, I left Elliot on a bench across the street from the performing hall.

I asked someone inside the cavernous lobby where the ticket booth was, and she pointed across the hall where the ticket station was. The line was nonexistent, so I waited briefly and stepped up to the ticket agent. I asked for two tickets, since I asked my newfound friend “Harvey” if he wanted to go with me, and he said yes. I interacted with a pleasant-looking agent who indulged my blathering on the new Netflix series on the inspiration for Anthony Perkins’ character in Psycho, Ed Gein. He didn’t hear of it and said he would investigate it.

A few moments later, I spotted Seth by the Lincoln Center fountain and I accompanied him into the next theater where he bought tickets for Ragtime. He also had no trouble buying tickets for a performance in November, I believe.

Before going to the Angelika together, Seth and I made one last-ditch attempt to get tickets for Oh, Mary at the Lincoln Center TKTS booth. By the time we got to the ticket booth, only one ticket was available for the 5 p.m. performance, but there weren’t two tickets available for the 7:30 performance. We exited the line and made plans then to see the film at the Angelika.

We took the subway down to Broadway-Lafayette Street on the F train and then purchased our tickets inside since there isn’t an agent outside anymore. We were a little shocked over the price ($17.50 for senior tickets. I was afraid to ask what the general adult price was).

The film, from director Oliver Hermanus and writer Ben Shattuck, concerns itself with the brief but impactful relationship between two musical students at the Boston Conservatory in 1917. They are Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal) and David White (Josh O’Connor) who not only share an attraction to the same sex but also share a passion for folk music in particular. Lionel is the more withdrawn and shy of the two; he is from poor folk in rural Kentucky and has been endowed with a vivid aural style and natural vocal ability. At a bar in Boston, he is surprised to hear another student playing and singing a familiar tune from his childhood on the piano. The young man, David, is a charming composition major with a passion for “collecting songs.” This means he travels across remote regions to gather and learn people’s local songs. The two instantly bond over this shared interest, and that night they have sex in David’s sparsely decorated apartment. Their emotional bond grows progressively intimate as they continue to meet weekly, only for their affair to end abruptly when David leaves for Europe to fight in World War I. At that time, the U.S.’s entry in the war leads to the indefinite cancellation of classes, so Lionel reluctantly returns to the family farm.

After the war ends, Lionel hears from David who proposes that he accompany him on a song-collecting trip throughout Maine where they will record the songs of Maine’s villages and farms with a wax cylinder phonograph, and where they will spend their nights camping in the woods. The viewer realizes that this time between the two lovers/friends is truly a high mark in their association with one another, but towards the end of their song-collecting venture, it is David who is grows distant towards the end of the trip. It appears that the horrors of war has traumatized David to the point where he’s unable to give voice to what he has experienced. Lionel eventually leaves Kentucky to pursue a career in music which takes him to Rome eventually and to Oxford where he enters into a relationship with a woman.

The film progresses at a very slow pace and it is here where viewers might have a problem with identifying with the events described within. It is very apparent, however, that Lionel and David’s relationship is tender and endearing from the start, but as time progresses and a reunion becomes less plausible, the seismic impact of David on Lionel’s life becomes increasingly clear, and the weight of the loss grows heavier, until Lionel realizes that this brief episode of his youth has bestowed happiness on him that he will never feel again.

The two principals, Mescal and O’Connor, are quite convincing as very different people. Mescal is more reserved and withdrawn than O’Connor who had more of a worldly upbringing. He mentions that he was raised by an uncle in England after his parents both die. As already mentioned, Mescal is the only son of Kentucky farmers. In the film, he uses his pleasant voice to great effect. O’Connor, however, is more outgoing and charismatic, and emanates a low-level nervous energy through employing gestures like constantly fiddling with cigarettes and putting on amiable, yet somehow uncomfortable-seeming, smiles. His natural charm, however, serves to conceal a well of pain over his homosexuality and his experiences in the Great War.

In an epilogue, Lionel is portrayed as a much older man by Chris Cooper, who has achieved much success as a musicologist, lecturer, and writer living in Boston. It is his reaction to finally receiving those long-lost tapes of songs recorded by him and David in Maine’s hinterlands that should bring a tear to the most hardened among us watching in the audience.

After seeing the film, the three of us walked to Veselka Restaurant on 2nd Avenue and 9th Street where we met Seth’s husband, “Jerry.” He came into the city just to meet us for dinner. When we got to the Ukrainian eatery, he was waiting for us on the corner.

We waited on line for a short while before we were escorted to a table inside. The restaurant was quite busy. Everyone was bustling over us, but a waiter did approach our table within minutes and took our orders. The preferred dish at our table appeared to be pirogies, so we all delighted in having them. I also had mushroom and barley soup first.

This was the end of the ride. After dinner, we said our final goodbyes to Seth and Jerry who took an Uber back to Astoria, while we dealt with the subway. We had to remember to get off at 46th Street and Broadway to pick up our car, not to take the E or F back to Forest Hills. And we did!

I have good news concerning our television set: it’s going to be finally returned tomorrow by “Ernest” who has restored it to its former glory. We’ve only been without it for more than two weeks. There’s certainly more worse things than not having a TV for two weeks, that’s for sure.

As a corollary to seeing Hitchcock’s much-sanitized version of the nefarious doings of Ed Gein in Psycho, here renamed Norman Bates, on October 30, I’ve started watching the series on Netflix. It stars Charlie Hunnam as the “monster,” Ed Gein, living in the nondescript town of Plainfield, Wisconsin. Hunnam plays the serial killer as a shy, withdrawn, mother-obsessed, simple man. He speaks in a very low whisper. As his religious fanatic of a mother, Augusta Gein, is Laura Metcalf who harangues poor Ed continuously with the wages of sin and having carnal relations with women. She is possibly the true monster in the whole grisly sequence of events that unfolded in that sleepy town more than 60 years ago.

The episodes veer from the past chronicling Ed’s descent into madness and to the present day (late 1950s through 1960s) when Hitchcock receives word of such a character from meeting with writer Robert Bloch, the creator of Psycho, to depictions of Anthony Perkins who would be cast as the Gein stand-in, Norman Bates. Here Perkins is wrestling with his own debilitating secret, the secret of homosexuality. He is shown in one scene in the bedroom with 1950s heartthrob, Tab Hunter. Alfred Hitchcock is here played by an anorexic Tom Hollander, who I don’t think looks or sounds like the real Hitch.

Anyway, I do intend to watch the series, which is eight episodes long.

Have a good week.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, June 18, 2025. Yesterday, as I expressed here the day earlier, I was probably going to be absent from this venue since Elliot and I were out having drinks with our newest friend “Barry” at the oldest gay bar, Julius’s. We were expected to meet Barry around 5:45, so we left Queens around 4 in order to spend a little time in the West Village before going to our appointed destination. We first had coffee at a place on 6th Avenue near the IFC Center and then we walked to Three Lives & Company, a West 10th Street bookstore. No, I did not purchase another book this time. But I did take a photo of a new hardcover nonfiction book called Eminent Jews by David Denby that I found quite interesting. The book examines the lives and works of such eminent Jews like Leonard Bernstein, Mel Brooks, Betty Friedan, and Norman Mailer. There’s no telling, even, if I would ever buy this book since I’m knee-deep in this month’s gay men’s reading club selection, Evenings & Weekends, by Oisin McKenna. I’m already halfway through the book and I just began it on Father’s Day, June 15. I’m almost at 200 pages in.

We got to the bar close to 5:30 and we sat outside a short while before I decided to enter the establishment. When I did, I saw Barry sitting at a small round table by the window nursing a drink. I then called Elliot to come into the bar and he did. We all hugged and greeted each other with kisses and wide smiles and then sat down, immediately ordering a side of French fries for the table and nonalcoholic drinks for Elliot and myself. Then we filled each other in on what was happening in all of our lives. We hadn’t seen Barry for a very long time, I think since last year, but most of it had to do with Barry going back home to Pittsburgh (where he was born and raised) to help with the care of his father who suffered a fall in his house, breaking a hip. He had also done some traveling, as well as we did. I asked Barry how old his father is, and I gulped when he said, “68,” where I blurted that this is about my age. Barry just smiled at me when I confessed this.

We must have chatted for close to 90 minutes since we ordered another round of drinks and French fries. Unfortunately, Barry had to leave early since he still had to work tomorrow, though he said he was off on Thursday, which is Juneteenth. So we couldn’t have dinner at the bar (their food is not generally great, anyway), so Elliot and I decided to have supper at the Bus Stop Cafe, on Hudson Street. We knew of this place from many years ago, even before the pandemic, so we bid adieu to Barry and walked further West.

The walk took about 10 minutes or so. I had to put on my phone GPS, which still didn’t prevent us from asking a passerby for directions anyway. The Bus Stop Cafe is a glorified diner and the prices are, for the most part, reasonable. So I ordered the eggplant parmigiana and a cup of chicken soup. I couldn’t finish my entree’, so I brought half of it home. I did order coffee which wasn’t that good, unfortunately.

The time wasn’t too late, sometime close to 8:30, so I decided to do something different: go to a gay bar – the Monster – which I haven’t done in quite a long time. Elliot was content to go home, and I said goodbye to him by the bar. I peered into the window to see if the bar was crowded or not, and I did see people enjoying each other’s company, so I decided to enter the Monster without missing a step. The security person at the door had to look at my ID, and I had to laugh over this.

Since I really don’t drink, I went to the rear of the bar to listen to the pianist. I thus stood around looking awkward and just listened to the volunteers who took the mic to sing their hearts out. I talked to no one and no one talked to me. I gave myself a half CBS News

I’m not sure what time I got home. I lucked out with getting an E train to Forest Hills at the West 4th Street station. But I was too pooped to write my blog last night. Excuse me!

Boy, in just one day, the mental deficient president is now almost approving attack plans on Iran, which must horrify everyone here in this country. He told reporters today that he had not made a final decision on whether to strike the country. This is what the dementia-addled president said about declaring war on another country that has nuclear weapons. “I like to make the final decision one second before it’s due, because things change, especially with war. I may do it. I may not do it. I mean, nobody knows what I’m going to do.” Is he contemplating whether to have spaghetti or not in this telling moment? You wouldn’t think he was actually weighing a crucial decision to put American troops at risk in a very dangerous endeavor. It sounds like he has no idea what he intends to do. Iran has said that it would “respond to any threat with a counter-threat.” This is madness that can hurdle us into World War III. Where are the rational lawmakers out there who can stop this crazed man? These quotes are selected from an online article in CBS News by James LaPorta entitled “Trump approved attack plans for Iran – but hasn’t made final decision to strike.”

So, hey, folks, all I can say is try to enjoy yourselves before we declare ourselves fighting in a Middle Eastern conflict that we shouldn’t ever be contemplating in the first place. You can thank this wishy-washy president who is accurately nicknamed “TACO”(Trump Always Chickens Out) Dump. Now he can’t even decide about thrusting the U.S. into a Middle Eastern war which is undoubtably not the right thing to do. The right thing to do in this situation is impeach the dumb bastard, in my humble opinion, before World War III does break out.

And just this from Lawrence O’Donnell, who on tonight’s show, The Last Word, just said about the so-called president: today he thought that the Declaration of Independence was written during the Civil War! Can you believe the stupidity here? Any third grader knows when both events occurred, or I should hope. But this president originally thought that the Continental Army had airports? Huh? Is he mentally all there? There is a YouTube clip of him actually saying this at one of his Nuremberg rallies. Go check it out.

And so it went!

Here is the book I was interested in at Three Lives & Company, on West 10th Street. Oops, you can see a glimpse of my red sneakers here too.

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, March 13, 2025. It’s late here, owing to Elliot and me seeing our two adopted “nieces” at a lovely – but noisy – restaurant in Sunnyside, Queens. The name of the restaurant is SoleLuna and is located at 40-01 Queens Boulevard, right under the El. We intended to take the subway to the locale where we expected to have no trouble taking the E or F to Roosevelt Avenue and then changing to the 7.

However, when we got to the station, we saw people walking out of there and informing us that service was terminated because someone was struck by a train. Huh! We didn’t enter the station and started for the Q60 bus across the street when a commuter told me that we could take that bus to Queens Boulevard and 40th Street. When we got to the bus stop, there was a swarm of people left stranded by no subway service and I decided to call one of my nieces, “Elizabeth.” I explained the situation to her and she informed me that this incident didn’t just happen. It might have occurred as early as 3 and she opined that the passenger who was struck by a hurtling train was in fact “surfing” the train he was in and probably fell off. However, this has not been verified; I’m just reporting it here from what she supposedly learned. That’s when Elliot and I grudgingly decided to now drive to the restaurant. The car was parked right in front of the building; I just had to dart upstairs to get the car keys.

So now I had to drive our new car at night. Even though it wasn’t totally dark when we started out for Sunnyside. I turned on GPS from the car and drove exactly where the GPS voice told me where to go. What was totally bonkers was that we got to the restaurant within 15 minutes or so and we got to the area before our two nieces got there, Elizabeth and “Rae.” We did find parking close to the eatery – on the island right by the El. I’m elated that I looked at the signs indicating that the meters were still in effect until 10 p.m. These meters did not go off at 7, which is what I thought. If we walked away from the car without feeding the meter, we would have definitely have gotten our first ticket on this car. But we avoided that!

We got to SDoleLuna around 7:20 or so and mentioned our niece’s name in which the reservation was made under. We thought we were going to have five people, but the host said that four persons were actually coming. We didn’t know that. We were ushered to a rear table that sat four people. The host said if there were another person in the group, we would have been moved to another table.

When our “nieces” did arrive, a little after 7:30, we did in fact see only two other individuals: Elizabeth and Rae and not Rae’s fiancé, “Taylor.” We hugged and kissed them when they got to the table. Rae did say that Taylor was unable to attend this gathering since he was working late. We said that was too bad. I had actually brought two issues of Fantastic Four for him to peruse at the table, but I said to Rae that I would give them to her at the end of the evening. I made it clear that they were not a gift; they were being loaned to Taylor for the time being.

The big news of the night was our nieces’ announcement that their father, a polymath by the name of “Ralph” was mulling a run for Congress from the state of Pennsylvania. We scratched our heads when we heard this stunning news. But it makes sense! Ralph as been devastated – like millions of others – by the direction this country has taken within the last two months with the election of an idiotic despot, so we said, “Why not?” Ralph has more or as many qualifications for seeking political office than the ninety-nine percent of cretins already in Congress – cretins like Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lauren Boebert, et al. He has a degree from Princeton University, is a licensed engineer, has written several books, has played in a rock band many years ago, writes for my political journal, The Banter, and is as left-leaning as they come. Of course, detractors will label him as “elitist,” but he will never give up his principles like so many ugly repugnicans with the same sort of ivy-league education that they turned their cowardly backs on in deference to the mighty appeals of political power. People like Josh Hawley, Ted “Ooze,” JD Vance, and a numbing number of other repugnicans who have held on to power in the age of Dump.

After the shock of Ralph running for Congress wore off, we finally perused our menu and ordered dinner. For starters, we ordered burrata and polpette for our appetizers, which were very tasty. My entree consisted of pesto pappardelle and Elliot ordered the same dish. The girls ordered something different which they devoured pretty nicely. No one asked for doggie bags at this meal.

For dessert, we ordered the chocolate mousse which looked like a ball of chocolate. It was more a creamy pudding than anything else. It too was very good.

My main criticism of SoleLuna was the acoustics which made it difficult to hear our nieces throughout the conversation. I had to ask Rae and Elizabeth to repeat what they said several times during our time in the restaurant. I would gladly overlook this defect because of the quality of their cuisine.

After we paid the check, we walked outside to the car since the girls hadn’t seen the new Subaru until now. I made the comment that since driving it, I can’t distinguish it from other similar models on the road. At least our old Nissan Altima was a distinctive color – light blue – and there weren’t as many out there as this Forrester.

We volunteered to take Rae back to Taylor’s apartment in Astoria. She put on GPS and I obeyed the commands to the letter getting Rae safely to her destination. We said good night when I got her there.

It was not difficult getting home since Elliot knew the way. We got home safely and we parked the car in the garage.

It was a very pleasant evening. Sorry to hear about the subway incident. I’m sure I will hear the details about this subway incident tomorrow, but as of now, I’ll just say “and so it went!”

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, January 19, 2025, a day until the coming Apocalypse. Maybe that’s why it’s snowing and it’s supposed to be frigid in Washington, D.C., where the inauguration has been taken indoors to appease a would-be dictator. Actually, the frigid weather is the story this week, as over 75 percent of the country is expected to face freezing temperatures this week as a rare winter storm approaches the South, in an online CNN article by Allison Chinchar and Lauren Mascarenhas examine this phenomenon.

But before I write about the weather, I must fill you in on the opera we saw at the Met last night: La Boheme. This is the 1896 opera fashioned by Giacomo Puccini about love among young Bohemians in 1830s Paris. According to the program we received when we walked to ur seats, “it can stake its claim as the world’s most popular opera.” The program also states that after the breakthrough success of Manon Lescaut three years earlier, this new opera established Puccini as the leading Italian opera composer of his generation.

So last night marked my debut at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center and no one took notice! We had a rainy but warm day with which to take in my very first opera. I’m very glad the viewing wasn’t anytime this week, with temperatures supposedly not rising too much out of single digits. I hope meteorologists are exaggerating here, but we’ll see. It is snowing here now, by the way.

Before the opera, Elliot left the house much earlier to catch a film at Film Forum, an Iranian film that garnered a 95 percent Rotten Tomatoes rating called The Seed of the Sacred Fig that went on at 2:30 p.m. I eschewed going with Elliot to the movies since it would have been a much longer day than it could have been. I left around 3 to travel to the West Side to browse a little at the Westsider Rare & Used Books Inc. bookstore , located on 81st Street and Broadway, right opposite Zabar’s.

Originally, we intended to meet for dinner at 5:45 on the Upper West Side, at a restaurant called Amelie Bistro Wine Bar, located on Amsterdam Avenue, but we were forced to cancel it because Elliot would not have been able to travel uptown that quickly after the end of the film. His movie was over two hours long. He called me before I left to deliver this news, so I feverishly scanned the listing of restaurants near Lincoln Center to try to come up with a suitable alternative. Many restaurants whom I called did not have openings until 6:30, 7, or even later. I was compelled to make a reservation at an Italian restaurant called Felice 71 – Columbus, which was much closer to Lincoln Center anyway. The first restaurant was in the 80s, I believe.

I decided to give myself about two hours or so before I would have to walk to Columbus Avenue and 71st Street. So I went to Zabar’s first to have a bagel and coffee. This is not their premiere gourmet emporium, this is their take out and eat-in place, right next door. So I had a bagel there first before walking across the street to the used bookstore.

Then it was time for me to browse in the bookstore. I am reading my new gay men’s reading club selection which I had to order from Amazon since I was Number 35 on a list at the public library from which I initially ordered it. I thought this was ridiculous; I wouldn’t get that book until next year, perhaps. Thus I ordered it last week on a Tuesday and it came on Thursday. I’m on page 140 already. After diving into it over the last week, I can see why so many people want to read it. The story is fascinating; it concerns the adventures of an Iranian young man by the name of Cyrus Shams who has a background of loss and violence. His mother’s plane is shot down by American missiles in a horrific accident and his father dies very young after relocating Cyrus and himself to Indiana. Ali could only get work killing chickens at a factory farm in the Midwest. Cyrus himself is a drunk, an addict, and a poet, whose obsession with martyrs leads him to conduct an examination of those who sacrificed their lives for a worthy cause. Despite these quirks in his personality, there’s something very endearing about Cyrus and his longings. Also the writing is superb, in my opinion. Oh, the author of this book is Kaveh Akbar.

Anyway, I was in the store for about 40 minutes when I decided to start walking down to 71st Street. We had a 6:30 reservation for outside; I couldn’t get an inside table. And this was cutting it close since the opera started promptly at 8.

I got to the restaurant around 6:05 and was escorted outside to an enclosed bubble that seated two people. It was very cute, actually. The maitre d’ said that the enclosure had its own heat, and she wasn’t kidding. I had to remove my outer jacket because it was quite toasty with the door closed.

Elliot approached the outside enclosure around 6:20 or so and it was essential that we give our order to our server immediately since we wanted to leave before 7:30 if that were possible. We ordered some appetizers and then one main entree each. We eschewed dessert and coffee and managed to finish before 7:30. I’m surprised we didn’t get indigestion as we darted toward Lincoln Center after paying the bill.

Anyway, we managed to get into the opera house with no fuss and we got to our seats. I tried to see how people were dressed; what I could see was that not too many people were dressed too lavishly there. I wore a suit; Elliot had on good slacks and a sweater. Maybe I expected men to be dressed in tuxedos and women garbed in gowns and high heels. But I didn’t see much of that in evidence.

For the opera, I can’t comment on the music or the professionalism of the cast’s singing since I’m no opera maven, but I can tell you that I was not bored over the four acts of the performance. There were two intermissions and the acts were really not that long. Elliot, actually, walked out before the final act. He saw three acts and left after 10. I remained to catch Mimi’s gasping last breaths in Act IV and applauded with everyone else at the end. What really helped with my enjoyment of the opera was the digital display in front of me that provided the opera’s libretto as the principals sung the lyrics. I’m not sure when these displays were installed to enrich the audience’s understanding of the lyrics, generally sung in Italian. So you don’t have to be in the dark wondering what the hell was being sung by the characters on stage. I Googled one of the most well-known arias from the opera – “che gelida manina” (translated to “what a cold little hand,” when Rodolfo meets Mimi for the first time and they talk about themselves and fall deeply in love.) The lyrics to this aria are definitely very romantic and transporting. When I looked this up, I saw the immensely popular Pavarotti singing this aria to Mimi as Rodolfo. He was the world’s most acclaimed tenors, as you know.

Well, that’s all I can write about the first opera I saw. I do hope that this has whetted our appetites to the point of seeing other performances as time marches on.

Have a good week, despite what’s happening tomorrow in Washington.

Oh, I didn’t write about the weather. All you have to do is look out the window. So forgive me if I don’t reprise the particulars of that story I mentioned in the first paragraph here.

And so it went!

This is our program from La Boheme. However, the picture on the front is from Aida, not the play we saw last night.

This is Musetta (Adela Zaharia) taking her bow. She is the second female character in the play and she’s in contrast to Mimi who is sweet and good natured. Musetta is what you might call a “good-time girl.” She’s been around the track, as they say.

This is the fair Mimi (Eleonora Burrato) herself.

This is the entire cast who performed in La Boheme. There are Mercello and Musetta who are an item, but they’re always quarreling, Mimi and Rodolfo and two other artists, Colline and Schaunard. Colline is actually a philosopher, while Schaunard is a composer. In yesterday’s performance, Rodolfo is sung by Yongzhao Yu.