What Goes On in A Mind? (Part 1):

Ms. Lulu in Cold Spring:

Todd Rundgren (left) w/ Vintage (right): "I always assumed Vintage's favorite bands were Rammstein, Motorhead, and Eric Burdon. But..."




"Klitschko was so big that even when he didn't connect cleanly he'd nearly knock Adamek off his feet."

This past weekend I went hiking with Ms. Lulu. Regular readers may remember that she’s the ex of my old buddy Jake (may he rest in peace).

I’ve known Ms. Lulu a long time now, which I guess means that she knows me too. At least a little bit. On the train ride up to Cold Spring she told me that she’d read my last blog post and laughed when she saw my Planet of the Apes reference.

“Do you remember talking to me that day?” she asked as Sing Sing passed outside the window.

“No.”

Lulu began to laugh.

“Oh my God, really? Maybe I just thought it was funny. But you called me up to have a drink after work and I was like 'What’d you do today?' And you said 'I went to the movie,' as though that explained everything. Even though we live in New York and there’s a thousand movies playing. But do you remember--I knew, ‘cause I know you Lodo. So I said, 'Planet of the Apes, right?' Oh I laughed so hard at that!” (here Lulu had to catch herself from laughing), “That stupid planet of the apes and Lodo in the audience all high, counting the days before his drug test.”

Guess I’m glad I could make someone laugh. Nice to bring a little joy to the world. Like that Todd Rundgren--man, do people love him! Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s great too. But here in New York he’s got a rabid fan base and has sold-out every club where I’ve seen him. For certain people, Todd’s the man.

My buddy Vintage is one of those people. I never would have taken him to be such a Todd Rundgren fan. Up ‘til 6 months ago I assumed Vintage’s favorite bands were Rammstein, Motorhead and Eric Burdon. But no--its Rammstein, Motorhead, Eric Burdon,...and Todd Rundgren.

Go figure.

Before the Todd Rundgren show, I last saw Vintage two weeks ago--when Vitali Klitschko fought Newark’s own Tomasz Adamek for the heavyweight championship of the world. I assumed Vintage liked boxing ( maybe ‘cause I’m a boxing fan), but now I know better.

But I didn’t know two weeks ago when I called his cell.

“Lodo, what’s up?” he asked.

“Vintage! What’re you doing tomorrow afternoon?”

“Uh, loading my truck for work. Why?”

“Come on over, man. There’s a a heavyweight championship fight in the afternoon. On HBO. I’ve got some beers. ...You should stop by.”

“...Boxing?” he asked. “How much is it?”

“Nothing. Least, not for you. Its on HBO. Just come by is all.”

“...Well, what? Is it anybody good?”

“Yeah man, heavyweight championship of the world. You’re not into that?” I asked somewhat surprised.

“...Not really. What?--is it somebody good?”

“Its the heavyweight champion man! Klitschko. Yeah he’s good!”

“...Wellll,...I don’t know. ... Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll see.”

We’ll see? Really? I couldn’t believe Vintage was on the fence. Probably didn’t want to take the PATH out to Brooklyn or drive his truck since it’d be loaded. It was gonna take some salesmanship to get him to come out. But I understand human nature--and Vintage’s mind in particular. So I knew which buttons to push when I called him the next day.

“Vintage, what time you coming out?”

“Oh, I don’t know Lodo. I’m still loading up the truck. Plus its a bit of a hike to get to you... Maybe we should...”

“Vintage come on man! You know this guy’s Polish don’t you? And he’s fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world!”

“He’s Polish?” Vintage asked with sudden interest.

“Yeah man! And the guy lives in Newark--did you know that?”

“In Newark? Really? How could I not know this?”

“It’s true. And he trains in Jersey City--right by you.”

I could hear Vintage’s heavy breath over the phone.

“You’re telling me there’s a Polish guy that lives in Newark and trains in Jersey City fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world today?”

“Yeah man! And listen to this...they’re fighting in Poland!”

Needless to say Vintage came out and I didn’t have to watch the fight alone. Course once the fight started and Vintage saw how big Klitschko was his enthusiasm dampened a bit.

“That’s who my guy has to fight?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. That’s Klitschko.”

“How come he’s so much bigger than my guy?”

“...I don’t know; he’s Klitschko.”

Klitschko was so much bigger than Adamek that even when he didn’t connect cleanly he’d nearly knock Adamek off his feet. That happened in the 2nd round. The 4th round. On each occasion I’d look over at Vintage who rocked anxiously in his seat, wringing his hands with worry. I couldn’t believe Adamek made it to the 9th, but you could see his mind was determined. No way he was gonna quit in front of his countrymen. Guy was gonna die in the ring before he’d do that.

“He’s gonna get knocked-out,” I said as Adamek ate another huge jab. “His corner ought to stop this.”

“You know Lodo, why don’t you shut up!” Vintage abruptly responded with real anger. “You said that in the 2nd round, and later on too. But look--he’s still there. Still trying. You never even thought he’d make it this far. He’s doing good!”

Ah Vintage. I could have got upset, but I know when a man’s been converted. He wasn’t mad at me so much as emotionally invested in the fight. In his Polish champion. The human mind’s not so difficult to understand--especially his. So when the referee stopped the fight and Vintage stood up to wipe the sweat off his haggard brow, there was no need for an apology. We just clasped hands. Shared a laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that Lodo,” he said to me as he folded his handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. “Its just that guy was so much bigger. It didn't seem fair.”

“I know. ...You want another beer?”

Vintage flashed a hang-dog, sheepish smile.

“Come on man, I'm not mad,” I told him.

“No?”

“Naw. I think I know where your mind was at.”

* NOTE: Planet of the Apes is obviously copyrighted; and all images of the Klitschko/Adamek fight were stolen off Google Images.