Today was a wonderful day for me because I took my CD to Tower Records on 66th and Broadway. I gave it to Brian Hester, who I guess is the Manager and he's going to listen to it. If he likes it I will get a 6 month contract, my CD will be sold in the classical section and it will also be played.

However I have just had a meeting with my supervisor where I have been told that spies have told him that I haven't been leaving at 2:15am, that more than one person has told him that I've been hostile and snippy with them, that I have not been professional

I'm eating as I write this. Actually I'm eating Kale. I bought kale at a health food store either yesterday or the day before and left it in the refrigerator on 28. Today I bought sweet potato soup in one of those milk cartons. Organic soup. It's almost midnight and at about 11:15 or so I began wanting a bagel. I didn't bring my crackers so I'm craving something chewy. I said I wasn't going to the Halloween party but I went. I was happy they had fruit but it wasn't good. Very disappointing. So I ended up going downstairs to Johnny's anyway. So upstairs at around 6:30 I had some turkey, a little bit of broccoli, a little bit of potato salad (which I consider a slip) and a very little bit of cranberry something which was quite rich I'm sure. I didn't have a lot so I just let it be. After I got myself out of the word processing room (the final stroke being that my supervisor said my screen saver was too loud and wanted me to turn it down, which I didn't know how to do).

I don't know why I wanted a bagel. I was browsing the internet. Looking for a book that someone I know printed out and I couldn't find it. I ended up on Oprah's site and they have all these topics you can write in about and maybe get on her show. Or you can make up one of your own and maybe they'll select it. Maybe I felt I didn;t fit in anywhere. And then I was reading celebrity blogs and this artist chick in MSN and her blog. I think I just frustrated myself. SO now I've got some of the sweet potato soup, which isn't sweet really at all. And their bagel store is closed. But when I was downstairs on 28 I happened to spy some goodies in a conference room. Cookies. I haven't eaten them but I did take three, broke them up and put them in one of the styrofoam cups and I will or will not have some.

Water. I should drink some water. And getting back to the bagel. It's usually never just the bagel for me. It's the bagel with the butter. And I like to have both sides of the bagel buttered. I don't like oodles and oodles of butter but hardly any butter is just awful. I could even draw and color. This is to take my mind or body and soul away from food - the bagel. I went downstairs last night and I saw a woman with a little child and she had a coloring book. So I wanted a coloring book and they didn't have one in Eckerd's. So I bought crayons and a small pad with blank paper. I did start a drawing last night.

So I opened onto the internet and the story popped out at me. Rosa Parks dies at the age of 92. She did her thing in 1956 when I was 10 years old. Almost 50 years ago it was. Then I think of the people that have passed recently. Ray Charles, Luther Van Dross, Ossie Davis, August Wilson, Nipsey Russell, Johnnie Cochran. Giants. And then this woman pianist died on Friday - or Thursday. I don't think I'd really known of her. Then I think of all the millions of non-giants that are dieing every day needlessly from diseases. Kids, mothers fathers. I picked up a copy of The New Yorker on Friday evening and the featured article was about Bill Gates mission to get rid of disease in Africa - specifically Malaria. I cannot believe how much money this man has contributed to this cause and probably others. You have to give the guy credit. He may have a monopoly on this computer thing but he's giving back big time. Big Time. The name of his game is: let's solve the problem. Or rather: I'm Going To Solve This Problem.

But it's definitely an end of an era with Rosa Parks' death. She defied those bastards. How do you defy what Bush is doing?

Monday 10/10/05

Got up later than I had planned. Had set my clock for 9 and then turned it off, finally getting up 2 1/2 hours later. Went out to my favorite Fed Ex Kinko's on Vanderbilt Avenue. I'm being facetious. They have my discs and everything and it's no longer my favorite place. I have to go through too many changes for them to be my favorite place anymore. The B came. I heard the buzzer go off midway down the stairs. Which is always nice because then you don't have to wait. I get off at 50th Street, but I'm at the front of the train for the 47tb Street exit. About 1/4 of the way into the block I see there's no traffic which means if I walk in the street I'll avoid the busyness on the sidewalks. Then I start seeing floats. And I hear music, which turns out to be Dean Martin. I forget what song it was, but it was amusing because just a few days ago there was a Dean Martin thing on TV. An hour or so of all his hit songs. He actually has/had a very nice voice. As a performer I think he was very seductive, knew how to put over a song, he was infectious, funny, likeable, good with children. I continued walking in the street paying attention to all the different kinds of floats and the people in them. I wondered why the emphasis on Italian. Why was 47th Street filled with Italian floats? Then suddenly I realized. I also think I heard stuff on Fifth Avenue and it dawned on me. It's the Columbus Day Parade. At the corner there were a lot of police and they were just closing off the Avenue. The group going by were people dressed in old style clothes. They looked like either immigrant Italians or Italians from the old country. The historical perspective was interesting. After the group goes by there isn't a break from the next group and I asked the policeman when he thought I'd be able to cross. His answer was something like "When the Boss says it's okay" I asked him where "The Boss" was and he wouldn't answer. I think I asked him whether The Boss" was nearby? and he still wouldn't give me an answer. There was a woiman outside the barricade, which meant she was in the street and she asked the same question I had asked. She got the same answer and he told her she had to get onto the sidewalk. She was pissed. Pretty soon another policemena came over, said something to the one near us and they moved the barricade for use to go by. I asked my policeman if the one who just spoke to him was "The Boss". He refused to answer. Just gave me this look. Once on the other side I walked down to 46th Street and on the way I heard a band. Between 45th and 46th, on Fifth Avenue, there was a small band - maybe 8 rows with 8 people in each row - and they were playing a wonderful tune. They sounded great but I also think it was just the flavor. They stopped just before 46th Street and only the drum was beating for a while. I waited and waited hoping they would start up again but as mych as I was enjoying the whole thing I had to be on my way. So I started down 46th Street towards Madison Avenue and then the band started playing again. I found myself humming along and stepping to the beat and thinking of the Scott Jopin I had worked on yesterday. Many of Scott Joplin's pieces give the direction of playing the piece specifically to a marching tempo. It's almost walking tempo but with a flair and it's definitely not rushed. The sidewalks were pretty much empty but a couple of people I passed smiled. I was also conducting too. I felt blessed to be witnessing a parade. I could have easily missed it altogether. It was this little "opening" in the day.

Was up very early this morning. How about 8, 8:30 and finally got up around 8:40. It was neutering day for Igloo. He's still pretty small so I was taking him in the cardboard box I first had for him back in May. I've only used it about 4 times. I had the box out in the hall and put him in it, closing it the way it closes, and then went back in the apartment for something. When I came out I was expecting to be on my way, but he was down at the end of the hall. Curled up. And of course when I went to get him he made a mad dash to go up the stairs. On occasion, I've had to go all the way up to the top floor to get him but he wasn't in a very frisky mode - mood?. Once I put him back in the box I could see how the sides weren't staying in their slots. But once I picked up the box everything stayed in place.

Walked to Central Park West and as I turned the corner the bus was just arriving at the bus stop. From then on it became a manoeuvering job. I had to keep hold of the box so that Igloo wouldn't get out and fish for my trtansitchek card in my bag at the same time. I was so concerned about not letting go of the box that I actually forgot about the card once I put it in the slot. The bus driver had to call me several times and I wasn't understanding what he was saying. Actually I thought he was telling me I couldn't be on the bus with Igloo. Finally I saw him holding the card and waving it. A lady in the front got up and handed it to me. Then the bus driver started saying something about people being ungrateful. I guess I hadn't responded quickly enough or thanked him soon enough.

We got to 65th Street pretty quickly and the bus was pretty empty. Then we got on the cross-town bus and there was no seat. Quite a few people were chatting on their cell phones. Especially one female right near me. She was supposed to be telling someone something, which meant this person wouldn't be able to come back, I guess in her life. And she was talking about her parents and that she was only 16 years old. Over and over and over. I don't know why people insist on having these very personal conversations - lengthy ones - in public spaces. I did get a seat though. Someone got up. It took forever to get through Central Park and to cross Fifth Avenue. Then we got to 68th near Hunter College and a lot of people got off, including the 16 year old talker, but there were twice as many people waiting on line to get in the bus. There were only 4 more stops to go (Third, Second, First and York), so I couldn't figure out where everyone was going. I was getting off at Second Avenue - 2 stops away. Between trying to keep hold of the cat case and the shopping bag and my bag(which was on my shoulder), all the people filing in with their different energies, the woman next to me on a cell phone, except she was talking very softly, which I much appreciated, having been on the bus for what seemed a long time, the threat of terror in the subways, and worrying about Igloo and his surgery, the morning was fraught with tension. Several times I imagined Igloo getting loose on the bus and saw myself running after him scrambling to get him under people and under seats. Igloo does not like being outside his environment. He gets quite frantic, pants a lot and makes loud piercing cries every so often. Just when you think he's okay he yells.

We were near the back of the bus but we still had to wade through a few people before getting to the door. He'd finally been quiet on the second bus but now that we were outside and walking Igloo began crying again. I talked to him but I'm not sure he could even hear me. At Madison Avenue, once we leave the Park and cross Fifth Avenue, the bus turns left and goes to 68th Street before turning again to go east. I had to walk 3 blocks back to 65th Street. I haven't been on the East Side a lot as a New Yorker but I used to be there more than now. I passed this very large apartment building with lots of glass that I remember Jackie, my cousin, saying that Joan her friend had a client in there. Joan does massage. It's also the area of a high school that my sister Merry went to. After the apartment complex there's the Beekman Theatre, which is actually on the ground floor of this apartment complex. And that's where I saw The Postman Always (Only?) Rings Twice, with Jessica Lange and Jack Nicholson, I think. I remember being so blown away by the sensuality of the movie. I think I saw it twice and I remember taking what I thought were film notes. Camera angles, dialogue, etc. At 66th, if you go a block east I think I went to a movie theatre there and saw Apocalypse Now. Or rather I attempted to see Apocalypse Now. It was so violent at one point - I think thery were going to slaughter everyone in a village - that I had to get up and leave. It was early on in the movie. I can't remember what was really going on with me at the time, but I was probably very depressed. There was a period where I would go to movies or plays and they would affect me terribly. I'd end up crying my eyes out in bathrooms. On this particular occasion, I think I just left the theatre and walked up the street to get air and regroup. And then on the east side of Second Avenue. between 66th and 65th there's another theater. Not as modern as the one a block away. I had met my high school and college girlfriend there for a movie one time. I don't remember the name of the movie. The thing is she's now in England and has a serious kidney condition. She gets dialysis twice a week I think. She's an incredible jazz singer and a writer. The movie theater was all boarded up, leaving only the teal blue deco framework showing.

So now I'm at 65th Street and I had thought the vet's was between 2nd and Third. She (the assistant) had said closer to Second so I thought I'd turn right. But I saw the address was between Second and First. So I had to turn left. I didn't see the office and went down the stairs at 310 East 65th Street and the doors were automatically opening for me, which was vey nice, but then the doorman appeared and told me I had passed the vet's office. I had to turn around and go back upstairs. It wasn't a lot of stairs but it had been a trek, even tho thankfully Igloo is not heavy.

So then I walk down two flights of stairs to get to the door of the vet's. I speak to the woman I had spoken to on the phone about Igloo's age and what kind of shots he'd had. She looked in his mouth and ascertained that he was not 5 months, as I'd said, but was six months and suggested I give him a distemper shot. So what was once a freebie neutering, which would have been in a mobile van, became $40, which was actually out-of-date and turned out to be $65, but now turns out to be $90. Which is better than the $200 or more from my vet on Columbus Avenue, but it's not zero.

While I've been talking to this assistant and tending to igloo the dog that was in the office when I first arrived has come right over to me and is hanging out in a very sincere way. He's not wagging his tail or panting or wiggling, but ust being there in this wonderful way. So I pet him and start talking to him. He's like a husky, with that kind of husky hair, only he's kind of a sienna color. The woman on the bench says his name is Lucky and that he needs a home. She hs top give him away. I didn't ask why. I immediately thought of my friend Laura and her family - 2 kids - except they already have a dog, which is because of me. I thought they would love this dog and the dog wouldn't be all over laura. I told the assistant about the pet case opening and she suggested I invest in a better one, which I have, but it's large and heavy. It's mainly for airplanes. Somehow other cases had appeared, stacked on top of each other, with cats inside i guess, but she took Igloo into another room and sid I should call at 1:30. I don;t know why I've been having such a hard time with him getting neutered, but it has been worrying me. And even though the office looked wonderful and clean and professional, as was the assistant - professional - I still felt concern. Was igloo going to be allright. But I left. What else could i do? He did have to be neutered.

From there I walked back to 67th Street and waited for the crosstown bus to the west side. Got off at Fifth Avenue and walked a block to get the bus down Fifth Avenue. At 59th Street there are all the carriages and horses and there is a smell like you wouldn't believe. There was another black woman on the bus and she was having a hard time with the smell. She found a handkerchief and held it to her nose. The Plaza was surrounded by a mesh gate because the Plaza is no longer The Plaza Hotel. it's in the process of becoming a condominium. Somehow that doesn't seem right. But things change. At 50th Street across from St. Patrick's Atlas is still holding up the world. It's such a beautiful statue. Soon it's 46th Street and that's my stop. I'm going back to Fed Ex Kinkoi's on Vanderbilt to get my 4-page insert for my cd revised. I'm putting the serious picture on the cover, with the wonderful background, and then I'll have to put the picture of me as a six year old inside. Then I'm going to put my email address on the back and get them to bold the text on the back page as well.

Before I get to Fed Ex Kinko's there is the Gotham Book Mart. My teacher has suggested that I get some bookstores (like Border's) to seel my CD. I know that's not going to work but I think maybe Gotham might. There's a black woman who comes to see what I want and is not very hopeful that the owner/manager will let me sell my cd there. It needs to be literary she says. Which gives me an idea. Maybe I can do a muisc and literary CD. I get a blueberry yogurt and eat it while telling the people at FEd Ex Kinki what I want done. They write everything down to give to Tammy (Tamerneka) who helped me before, who'll be in at around 1PM.

I leave and walk downtown to 42nd Street, where I first go to this "Pret" eating establishment I used to go to when TPW has its ofcice on 42nd Street after 9/11. I get 2 sandwiches and some popcorn and sit and take a couple of bites. I'm trying to be conscious of what I eat and how I eat. The sandwich isn';t great but I do need to eat something. Then I go into Coliseum bookstore and buy 'meeting faith'- the forest journals of a black buddhist nun.

Next I'm off to see if I can get a job playing piano. Non-paying but I'd be playing anyway. I go to the Woodstock Hotel on 43rd between 6th and 7th Avenues. I ask to see the woman who books talent and I;m asked if I have an appointment. I get to see her anyway. But the guy tells me to take the stairs. I would have rather taken the elevator but I take the 2 flight of marble stairs. I go into Denise Jones' office and she's at a round table counting money. She finishes and then talks to me. I tell her I'm a pianist and would like to play there. She gives me a folder about them - Project Find. Tells me there are 5 residences in the city and gives me a form to fill out. She's busy so I'm out of there pretty quickly.

I then walk to Seventh Avenue and wait for a bus. The bus stop is almost in front of a building where I used to go to deliver mail to Judy, my sister, when she was on tour. It's also the companion bus stop for tour buses. A black guy has reached the bus kiosk before me and while we wait he spits in the street a lot. So disgusting. Really. When I see he's going to spit I tunr away so as not to see this liquid flying out of his mouth into the street. Lovely. I think he's waiting for the 104 but the first one let out passengers in the middle of the street and keeps going. The other one is taking a long time to get from one block to the next and I don't see any buses behind it. I need a number 10 and end up taking a cab to 35th Street.

Now I'm at Chaiken Systems. 225 West 35th Street on the 8th Floor. I'm picking up 3 more voiceover cds and the rest of my jewelcases for my piano cd - 40 of them. The building is airconditioned which I welcome, cause it's very muggy out, but the office is not. Not at all. so I sit down and fan myself with an empty Fed Ex envelope. The owner, Steve is there, He's usually never there when I go. And he;s on the phone. He's got on khaki shorts, a tan tee shirt, sneakers and white socks. He's thin and I wish I could be his size. Vinnie, the guy I deal with, is taller and a little heavier, but not much. He's got on blue jeans and a long blue tee shirt.