Wednesday, February 18, 2015

I found myself in Manhattan looking for a record store, and of course there are none anymore. I took a walk around the block and took the train back home.

Buckles was describing to some people the chronic shoulder pain he suffered due to a Little League pitching injury. He now had limited mobility in his right arm and found it very difficult to jerk off.

Had band and music dreams too. I’d written and recorded a reggae song. The band had just played a reunion show. We heard back that someone in the audience had said we should not be so “wry.” I took this to mean we should take the music and the audience more seriously. I said that was certainly true. Jake agreed.

J. D. had been organizing baseball lessons on Saturdays for our kids, Theo and Jackie and a few other friends’ kids. It was pouring rain, so I figured it was canceled this week. I found myself at his place anyway. There were open boxes of donuts. I realized the lesson was not canceled. Everyone was already on the bus that was to take us there. I climbed on board with Jackie. Someone handed out beers but skipped me. I was annoyed.