I’ve been away from reading/commenting on blogs because last week some nice guy out in L.A. bought a copy of the Thunder Road chapbook I made and was so smitten with the book and the story behind it, that he did a great write-up for Backstreets.com, the all-Bruce Springsteen, all-the-time fan website. He even skewed one of Nick Hornby’s book titles for the article headline and linked Springsteen’s cameo from the film adaptation of Hornby’s High Fidelity. Oh, that’s clever!

The piece is so compelling and so well-written that it resulted in a tsunami of orders. I’m a one-man fulfillment center so I’ve spent the last five or six nights hold-up in my basement packing and shipping books. Here’s the article. Just scroll down a bit. The books are now sold-out, which was never a guarantee, so thanks, Jon. I’ve also had to spend time refunding money that keeps pouring in. People are disappointed. Additionally, I was contacted by a DJ from E Street Radio on Sirius Satellite who was going to play Thunder Road and then do a story on the book to try and move copies, but that’s no longer necessary. I’d also like to publically thank Mrs. Wife for taking all 200 packages to the post office for me. Do you think that was easy?

Backstreets.com is a huge, influential website. They linked my blog post that tells the story of how the book was made and my stats went through the roof. My usual puny 50-70 hits per day ballooned to about 300 per day since last week. Many orders included congratulations and messages of admiration which, for an egomaniac like me, couldn’t be more satisfying. I keep re-reading them over and over. It’s like pushing a lever and getting a peanut M&M.

Last week, Mrs. Wife impulse-purchased a pair of deeply discounted tickets to see Janet Jackson. I’m not a huge Janet Jackson fan but it certainly beat the hell out of another fruitless scroll through Netflix. It was an outdoor venue and the concert sold so poorly that everyone who had a lawn seat was given a seat inside the pavilion. The back parking lot, where we usually get stuck, was completely empty. Not one car! Hence, the discounted tix, I suppose.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that about 70% of the concert was lip-synced. But I don’t fault Ms. Jackson. The show is so intensely choreographed that I decided it’s not meant to be a concert of just singing. It’s about the dancing and visuals, too. And you can’t put on that kind of show and still sing live. It’s just not possible! Especially at 45 years old.

Her want to please the audience seemed genuine to me. To turn around and say, oh, for shame, she lip-syncs, would be in poor form and belittle her efforts. She was working her ass off. What more do you want? So I will grant her a pass, where many others would cry foul.

There was a mini-tribute to Michael Jackson, which left me unexpectedly sad. A photo montage that featured the two of them since their childhood was played on a screen behind her while she sang. It dawned on me that although he was an oddity, he was also her brother. And he died tragically. She lost her big bother, whom she obviously loved. Do you have siblings? Can you imagine watching one of them die in the manner he did? I was so blue.

The city is littered with outdoor festivals and events throughout the summer. It’s all free, so bring your cheap ass to Manhattan and be entertained for nothing!

I was feeling a little blue so I went to the Lincoln Center Out of Doors Festival to see if anything there could cheer me up. Boy, did it ever! I saw the Raya Brass Band. They’re five young guys from Brooklyn who play music of the Balkans. Good, Eastern European stomp. Just like the stuff my Polish dad used to play on Sunday mornings.

You might have to watch this clip twice to take it all in. First, watch the old dude on the right in the blue tee-shirt and hat dance the crazy spastic-twist. No rhythm whatsoever. He just wants to steal attention from the band and make it all about him. Typical crazy New Yorker. Then, about midway through, watch the old Balkan women dance into the frame. And notice the old perv looking them over. The poor band.

The dancing becomes TOO FRANTIC and the po-lice have to step in to restore order. I kept waiting for fists to fly. Meanwhile, the band never stops playing! Seasoned pros. As you can imagine, I walked away from all this feeling much better about life.

God bless Lincoln Center for providing this festival for the city. Laurie Anderson is doing a free show on the 10th but I’ll be away. If you’re around you should go. Unless it’s raining. Nothing will kill an outdoor concert quicker than rain.

Last summer, 88 decorated pianos were placed throughout the city streets and plazas. People could just walk up and start playing. The event was so popular that they brought it back this year. Sadly, someone actually stole one of the pianos that was out in Queens. Bastards! They’re chained to cinder blocks but that didn’t stop the thieves.

Here, at the piano in Times Square, a woman bangs out a ragtime number. I’ve always heard that ragtime is particularly difficult to play. Is that true?

Out of a sense of self-preservation and duty to family, I’ve decided to leave my current consulting gig at an unstable company who might (or might NOT) have eventually offered me a staff position for a consulting job at a healthier firm. This can’t go on forever.

Can it?

A prerequisite for the new gig was that I start on Monday. When you leave a job, it’s customary to give two weeks’ notice. If you’re a consultant, however, the rules are a little looser. If they had to terminate my contract, I wouldn’t have been given two minutes notice much less two weeks. So I was shocked (shocked!) at the anger and vitriol spewed by my boss because I was only giving them one week notice. She stood up from her chair, her eyes flaring, and told me I was the most unprofessional person she ever met. She disappeared into the department head’s office for about :45 minutes and when she came back she walked up to my desk and said that everyone (meaning, her) felt it best if I left right now. They confiscated my ID and threw me out of the building! I don’t recall anyone being that angry at me. Ever!

The headhunter who placed me at my new gig said he could rustle up a short project to finish out the week but since the next day was The Daughter’s birthday (5-years old with a vengeance), I decided to take the rest of the week off. When I related this tale of rejection to Mrs. Wife, she suggested that I take a day and blow off some steam in Atlantic City. What a wife!

* * *

I had a quick cup of coffee and headed straight for the craps tables. It’s my thing! I love the game, the people, the language, the culture. Favorite bit of overheard banter:

70-ish year-old woman: “Give me the six and the nine.”

Stickman: “The six and nine! My favorite numbers!”

70-ish year-old woman: “Mine, too, when I was younger.”

Pit boss: “This is supposed to be a family destination.”

I was deeply saddened/angered to hear of the passing of poor, broken Amy Winehouse. Sad because that girl was the real deal. Her Back to Black album is a masterpiece. I won’t queue it up unless I have time to hear the whole thing from start to finish uninterrupted. There’s not one losing track. Do you know what a rare thing that is?

But I’m angry because here I am trying to find stable employment and she was given talent and success at a very early age and pissed it all away. I read an interview whereby she complained that she was “bored.” Fuck you, Amy. We’re all bored. Part of life is finding a way to rise above your boredom. Did you see that photo of her house in North London? Spectacular.

Give a listen to this gut-wrenching (to me) rendition of Love is a Losing Game and try to imagine what an astonishing career she could have had.

Here’s what I ate last Sunday:

I was on the road for breakfast and lunch but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t treat my body like it’s an open sewer.

Do you know what I’ve had for lunch over the past two weeks?

Tension.

I gave up my lofty professional aspirations and have settled into a groove of searching for an ordinary, full-time job with benefits for my family. (One man’s groove is another man’s rut but that’s what it’s come to, I’m afraid.) While I’m grateful that I’ve been gainfully employed during this horrifying recession, the fact is that I’ve been doing nothing but consulting work these past two years. It’s dispiriting, to say the least.

SO. Here’s my dilemma. Should I stay with a job I enjoy at a troubled company that might (or might not) offer a full-time position in September or go with an open-ended consulting gig at a healthy firm where there’s no hope of a hire? Ever. Tell me what you think. I am EXHAUSTED from meditating on this. Do you know how if you work on something for a long time — a painting or a piece of music or a blog post — you become so saturated with it that you don’t know what you’re looking at anymore? I can’t think straight with this decision.

If the recession has left you relatively unscathed, please realize how fortunate you are. Take a moment and feel good about that.

I found these two winter pics buried in my blog and I’m posting them in honor of our insane heat wave. This is Bryant Park in the wintertime. The trees are lit from underneath by the ice skating rink that goes up from November to February. The branches look metallic! If you look closely, you can see the Chrysler Building through the branches.