Prince (last Friday): 3rd Encore, out near Giants Stadium:
Last post I suggested a title of Two Glasses of Wine and An Oxycontin for the huge mural painted on Stillwell and Mermaid Avenues in Coney Island. That mural may have led my thoughts in a certain direction; though I'm pretty sure the artist and I were already on the same path.
I’ve seen that mural lots of times, but when I saw it again last Thursday my thoughts immediately turned toward the bottle of Codeine syrup I have in my fridge. Its only got a few tablespoons left--remnants of the last time I was sick; but when I chase that with a nice, full glass of red wine I become like a dog by the fireplace. Peaceful intermission.
Last Thursday was 24 degrees outside, which may have been the high for the week; but I still took time to snap those pics. I knew Friday was just round the corner, where I had my Codeine syrup, leather recliner, a bottle of Cabernet, and my warm comforter folded on my silk sheets. Just one more day.
Well Friday came around; and in fact I’d just got home and popped the cork on that Cabernet when my phone rang. The caller I.D. let me know it was Burgess.
“Burgess, what’s up?”
“Lodo! Its Burgess.”
“Yeah, I know.”
...What’re ya doin?” he asked.
“I just got home. I’m ‘bout to have a drink.”
“ What’re ya doing tonight?”
“Well, I’m gonna have this glass of wine and then finish my leftover Codeine syrup that the doctor gave me. This stuff knocks me out for like..12 hours. I love it.”
“Oh no--you’re sick?” he asked.
“No, I just like to sleep is all. You know,...its a nice way to pass time.”
“Whaat? ..Uh, okay. Listen, we’re going to see Prince tonight. Let’s go.”
“Prince? That’s not tonight--that’s tomorrow.
“Wrong again Lodo, he’s in Jersey tonight. We’re all going. I’m gonna drive, but you gotta get us high when we get there.”
“Hmmm,” I thought aloud. “...How much for a ticket?”
“$40 bucks.”
Extended silence.
“...Why did you say I was I wrong before?” I asked.
“What?”
“Before, you said I was 'wrong again.' Wrong about what? Doesn’t Prince play The Garden tomorrow?”
“Oh my God Lodo,” Burgess answered as I heard him snap his fingers from his end of the line, “keep up would ya? Tonight. Tonight!”
Prince on piano (literally) last Friday:
So anyway, I didn’t take my codeine syrup last Friday. Instead I saw Prince and planned to save my syrup for Christmas. Figured I’d sip a few sugary tablespoons of liquid sledgehammer as I devoted the day to lazy slumber, warm-hearted dreams, and good-will towards my fellow man. The real spirit of a Lodo Christmas.
Yet no sooner had I locked-in my plans than my cellphone rang. The caller I.D. said it was my Aunt Robin.
“Aunt Robin--what’s up?”
“Nothing sweetie, how are you?”
“Good, good.”
“Great. Listen, you have a minute? I just wanted to ask you a professional question...”
My aunt and I discussed her issue for awhile ‘til I was prepared to hang-up; when, seemingly as an after-thought, she asked out of the blue.
“So what’re you gonna do for Christmas? Anything?”
“Yeah, actually I have some codeine syrup leftover from the doctor. That stuff goes real nice with a glass of wine. I’m gonna finish that, sleep all day; maybe watch Fantastic Fox on HBO. It’ll be nice to stay inside and not have to go anywhere.”
“What?--codeine syrup? And alcohol? That’s what you’re going to do?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Oh no Lodo. That sounds so...sad.”
“It does?”
It does reader? Was my plan that pathetic? I certainly didn’t think so, and don’t to this day. But my Aunt Robin--oh my God!
“Listen Lodo,” she said to me. “You mind if I call you back in a few minutes?”
“Uh,..sure.”
So I hung up the phone and chuckled as I envisioned my aunt calling my parents, or sister--or anyone she thought might be able to mount a successful intervention. Eventually she called back.
“Aunt Robin,” I said into the phone.
“Lodo, its Aunt Robin.”
“Yeah, I know. What’s up?’
“Listen,” she said with emphasis, “I’ve got (2) tickets for ___________ . Its a Broadway musical. Would you use these if I gave them to you? The show’s on Christmas. I’d really like you to have them.”
I had to laugh.
“You know I’m heterosexual don’t you?” I asked her.
“Excuse me?--of course I know! Why do you ask me that?”
“Just because. I hope you didn’t buy these especially for me.”
At which point my aunt delved into a detailed explanation (meticulously detailed) as to how she happened upon these free tickets. An explanation the investigator in me still doubts for about a half-dozen reasons, but which I never addressed.
Because why should I? It’ll be Christmas in New York.
On Broadway.
And soon I’ll be asleep for a long time.
My Aunt Robin (left) w/ my Grandma (right):
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