Dreams And Wanderings (Originally Published 8 Dec 2008)

Current mood:pensive

I'm sitting in my room, my little world, listening to the CD, "Songs I Heard" by Harry Connick, Jr. It's jazz renditions of what could be called "children's songs".  Mostly music from movie musicals like "The Wizard of Oz", "The Sound of Music" and "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", among others.  I'm just wild about Harry and I love his style of music, that mix of jazz and big band.  I just got back from my usual morning routine although it was unusual because it really was morning, early morning.  I woke up around six-thirty with a strange dream occupying my thoughts.  I had a very long and detailed dream about my dearly departed cat, L.E.S.Co.  Those who read the AOL Café know that she was named after the company on whose grounds she was found, Long Engineering and Surveying Company.  Strange name for a cat but there ya go.  In my dream, she could talk, although it wasn't too articulate.  She mostly spoke like a toddler would but with an adult female voice.  It was disjointed, not coherent and rather in singsong.  I was reading a book aloud to her, lying on my bed in my bedroom in Ventnor in the afternoon sunshine (which was odd because that room faced east).  I wish I could remember the name of the book, it was very important to the dream but it's not a book that I've ever heard of.  I reached over to give L.E.S.Co. a pat on the head and stroked her legs and paws the way she liked and asked her if she knew how loved she was, she purred and said, "Yes, I am a very lucky cat". 

Damn, I wish I could remember the name of that book!

I quickly dressed, throwing a baseball cap on my bad hair, and wandered to Brittany's Café for breakfast around eight.  The usual suspects were there, some cops and a few of the regulars.  I tried to listen in to the conversations but I found myself bored with them and simply read the paper, which detailed the latest doings of our illustrious city council and the sex scandal that put most of them under indictment.  You gotta love Atlantic City politics!  It seems my former boss/owner of the Studio Six is going to get away with his role in the whole sordid affair and keep his council seat.  Pity, I would have loved to see him do the perp walk! 

I finished my breakfast and wandered down to the flower shop to sit and chat with Chuck, the head floral designer and artist.  He has an upcoming art show in his home and I'm miffed I can't attend being it's on Sunday and I'll be sleeping.  He's quite talented and I have one of his works hanging in my dining room.  Speaking of my former boss, Chuck had a magazine from nineteen-eighty called "David" that detailed gay nightlife on the East Coast, mostly Florida and Philadelphia/Atlantic City.  In it were pictures of both Chuck and the aforementioned John Shultz with his twink of the moment, one I didn't recognize but, then again, that was before my time began in the club scene.  The photos were taken in the Brass Rail and that brought back a flood of memories.  There were also ads for various restaurants and places of interest inAtlantic City that I had totally forgotten about.  The one for the Chester Inn, though, brought a giggle out of me when, at the bottom of the ad, it said, "Not owned by John J. Shultz".  That was an important distinction back in the day.

Another thing I found amusing was that the Brass Rail bartenders whom, with their late seventies hair cuts and mustaches and were listed as "hunks" in the caption, were wearing tuxedo shirts and ties!  How bloody grand!  Believe me, no matter how you dress the staff, the place was still a dump.  Even when I worked there.  A profitable, fun-as-hell dump but a dump nonetheless.  

My thoughts have been wandering all over. 

Wednesday night was an eye-opener.  It was busy as all get out!  I rang more on Wednesday than I did the past few weeks put together, forchrissakes!  I got the usual phone numbers from some of the shoobies that are here on business.  I didn't ring them up.  The little slips of paper sit on my dresser with the rest of them, something to look back on and laugh about in my "twilight years" whenever I choose to get there.      

I am now listening to "Jackpot: The Best of Bette" Midler, that is.  Her two most famous songs, "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "From A Distance" were quickly skipped.  I LOVE Bette but I cannot abide those bits of sickening treacle. 

It's almost time to get my act together and do my usual Friday double.  Lately I have been wearing a shirt and tie with jeans, casual but dressy, as of late.  Don't know why, it's one of those changes in mood I go through.  Hell, next week I could be wearing all black all the time.

One never knows.