April 1, 1980 Journal Entry East Village

April 1

My brother Frank's Birthday

April Fool's Day 1979

Yesterday Michael Selbach and I felt the urge for a short trip up the Hudson on his Kawasaki 650cc motorcycle. The day was sunny and I dressed in white denims; jacket and jeans, then rode the subway up to Times Square. The David's Pot Belly's cook waited on the corner of 42nd and Eighth. He handed me a Bell helmet and I climbed on the back.

"I never thought you'd be my bike bitch."

"Hey, this is only platonic."

He headed over to the semi-destructed West Side Highway and we cruised north along the Hudson.

"Shall we go to the Cloisters?" he shouted with his head slightly turned away from the wind.

"I went there two weeks ago. Have you ever been to West Point?" The famed military academy was about fifty miles away.

"No, I haven't."

"It's worth the ride, plus there's the Storm King Highway overlooking the Hudson. A must see." I had been there once with my family. Like me my father loved the road.

"Sounds good to me."

We crossed the Fiord on the GW Bridge to New Jersey and sped along the Palisades Parkway.

Far back in the Ice Age this falaise had guarded an extinct continent against the rising ocean, as the melt-off from the mile-high glacier carved through the tectonic plate to form the Hudson hundreds of feet below us. A fierce wind along the parkway buffered us from lane to lane. Thankfully traffic was light after the 9W exit and we soon sheltered by the bare branched trees.

The towns along the western bank were situated out of sight from the roadway. THe surrounding towns had outlived their original purpose to become suburbs for men and women commuting into Manhattan for work. We passed by the exit signs dentoing their existence without seeing their centers. After Nyack the land ruralized with farms spreading over the hills, until we reached a massive quarry shipping gravel to reconstruct New York City recovering slowly from the dereliction of the 1970s.

Michael topspeeded on the highway. 86 mph. Helmets restricted any conversation and I spoke within my mind to my minds.

After Haversack we entered the suburban sprawl of malls and little league fields. The station wagons were filled with young boys in baseball uniforms driven by well-coiffed mothers. The young boys studied our passage with a a sense of yearning. Some of them had to want to be us.

Michael and I had grown up in similar surroundings on the West and East Coasts. A life as a bum was preferable to their parents' enslavement to the 9 to 5. I had left behind the suburbs in 1974 and I harbored no urge of returning to the sprawl of my birth.

Lately Michael had been talking about moving to Hoboken, as if he was abandoning the city. I was bound to the East Village. I wasn't leaving until it was time to leave and today that felt like never.

Haverstack gave way to West Haversack without a struggle. George Washington might have retreated through these lands after the military debacle in New York over two centuries ago. The towns were replaced by farmland and then tenth-growth woodlands. Michael hit 80W for a few miles before we exited for West Point.

US 6 spanned the Hudson River on the Bear Mountain Bridge. In 1948 Jack Kerouac started his trip across America here. That trip inspired ON THE ROAD. I wanted Michael to stop, so I could stand where the Beat writer had stood thirty-two years ago. The bridge dated back to the 1930s. America really began here. I had last hitchhiked across the continent in the winter of 1975. I stood wishing I was on my way to the Coast, instead I sat back on the bike.

We descended into marshes. Railroad tracks were strapped to the western bank. A sign WEST POINT 10 MILES stood at attention by the roadside. My father had driven here on our Ford Station Wagon in 1966. I had been almost fourteen. My mother had wanted me to be a priest or a cadet.

Michael and I entered the academy by Thayer Gate. The graduates of the the 1960s and 1970s had served in Vietnam. The power of the world's strongest army. Defeated by rice farmers. Now five years after the Fall of Saigon the cadets of the 1980s in their dress uniforms showed no defeat. Their stiff posture marked their dreams of America's future glory. Vietnam wasn't their defeat, but it was our victory. Michael and I were both anti-war leather punks.

A sign announced NO PARADE TODAY.

"It's a good show." Back in my youth I had wanted to be a cadet. Anything to get out of my hometown on the South Shore of Boston. I would have looked good in the uniform.

We stopped at the military graveyard. Home eternal for thousands of officers. We stood at George Custer's grave.

"He's no hero."

"And neither are we."

We saddled up and the Kawasaki climbed the steep two-laner to the top of the Storm King Highway, 420 feet over the Hudson. We stopped at the precipitous vista point. The Hudson ran north between the Berkshires and Catskills. Both mountain ranges had been shorn of their height by the glaciers.

"You know I might have fallen in love with Vickie." Michael had been seeing the redheaded fashion student for a few months. I was still recovering from Lisa's desertion. My blonde girlfriend had disappeared into Europe to be a fashion model. I had seen her in a German lingerie ad. Michael had been a good friend. His wife had left him last summer.

That's a good thing for you."

"But not you?"

"It's was bound to happen. I'm happy you're in love. I know how to drink alone."

"Really?"

No, but better you than neither of us."

"What about you and Elizabeth?"

I had been seeing the lanky Virginian for a few months too. We had even met each other's parents.

"We're going nowhere."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm too haunted. I don't felt anything for anyone. Not even myself. It's better that I break up with her before I really hurt her."

"Or yourself." Michael straddled the Kawasaki. "Too bad, she's a great girl. By the way you should look at your jacket."

"Why?"

"Look."

I took off the Levi jacket. The back tire had thrown up a oily rooster tail to splatter the back of the white jacket.

"Damn. That ain't gonna come off."

"Your jeans match."

"Double damnit."

I got on the bike behind Michael. If I had a motorcycle, I wished we were bound for the West Coast and a sore ass, but we crossed the Hudson at Newburgh and drove south to New York and our lives.

April Fool's Day 2022

My older brother was born on April 1. His profession is the Law.

Five years ago he told my sister, also an attorney, that he would have no problem defending Satan or any other client as long as they paid his fees. My nephew was in an Ivy League. His tuition cost more than I earned last year. My brother needed clients and a lot of them, including the Brockton Police, who were more wicked than Satan.

This morning I phoned his office to wish him 'happy birthday, but couldn't resist playing a prank.

"Can I speak with one of the partners? My name is James Steele and I represent Phillip Morris."

No one is more evil than the tobacco companies, except the CIA torturer Jame Steele and the Catholic Church.

The secretary transferred the call and my brother came on the line.

"Your brother lost a court case against our firm. He didn't even bother to show up for the trial."

"Trial for what?"

"Copyright infringement." My brother had no idea about my business in Thailand. "The judgment was $550,000."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Well, it's your birthday and I thought I'd give you a scare."

"Being my age is scary enough." My brother recognized my voice and cursed me out. "Happy fucking April Fools Day."

Actually some of that story was true as are the best lies.

A little true and a little not and you have an April Fools prank, of course no one in America can explain why 4/1 was a day for stupid pranks. Some people theorized that after the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar May 1 was the day designated for planting your crops. Anyone doing so before that date was an 'April Fool'.

April 1 had also been the first day of the year in France.

Back in the past people had to depend on kings and priests for the right dates.

And there was no trusting those higher-class types in the Dark Ages.

Not now either, which is why each year I mark the calendar for my brother's birthday.

He's a year older too.

Thirteen months to be exact, but who's counting.

Certainly not this Irish twin.

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday commemorates the last day of freedom for Jesus Christ. The Man from Nazareth spent his final hours of freedom with his thirteen apostles and at this Last Supper the Messiah predicts his betrayal. The date for Holy Thursday has been argued by scholars for centuries, but is generally conceded to have occurred between 30-36 AD in the Jewish month of Nisan, which would make it in April. According to Wikipedia Annie Jaubert argued that the Last Supper took place on the evening of Wednesday 1 April 33.

There was no April Fool's Day back then.

April Foolishness

Back in the last decade a friend called to tell me that a business associate had been trampled by a herd of deer on his Easthampton property. I didn't question the story and immediately phoned Billy O.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay." Billy O was a realtor of moderate wealth. He was in love with his beautiful wife and two daughters. His voice was free of pain.

"No reason." I realized that my friend had played a practical joke for April Fool's Day. "Have a nice afternoon."

I hung up the phone and sat on my bed slightly angered by my friend's prank, but it was April Fool's Day and my landlord got a good chuckle upon bushwhacking about my gullibility. He was also friends with Billy O.

"It's an April Fool's tradition."

"And my brother's birthday." I had contacted Frank early to wish happy birthday. "The tradition comes from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales with merry-makers celebrating March 32th by sticking a paper fish on the backs of friends and family."

"That's silly," AP's son commented from the next room. James had good hearing.

"Yes, it is, but back in the Middle Ages the New Year was celebrated on March 25th to match the Spring Equinox, then the Pope changed it to January 1st by the Edict of Rousillon."

"You know a lot of stuff." James attended an expensive neighborhood school. His parents expected him to excel in his classes. He fulfilled their wishes every report card.

"I'm a vast abyss of useless knowledge. I read a lot." Not as much now as earlier in the year. The world was doomed to end on May 21, 2012 according to the Christians and they don't joke about the Apocalypse. "James, there's a dog on your head."

"No, there isn't." His hands went to his head.

"April Fool." Six year-old boys are easier targets, but so are fifty-nine year old men.

And that's no joke.

The Hoax of Hypocrisy - 2011

Many years ago the BBC announced that the Vatican Library was publishing its collection of banned manuscripts and books online.

"Fans of antique erotica, rejoice. The world's largest collection of pornography is about to be published on the web. Just make sure you have a credit card handy.

The Vatican Secret Archives announced yesterday plans to digitalize a previously unacknowledged collection of prohibited materials.

Kept hidden by an act of pontifical secrecy, the items, once decreed obscene, are being unveiled as part of a new papal directive on transparency.

The collection includes tens of thousands of drawings, frescoes, engravings, artifacts, and ephemera dating from the Renaissance back to classical antiquity.

>Included in the materials available for a free but censored preview are an illuminated manuscript depicting the Song of Solomon and several illustrations of Mary Magdalene.

Profits to Defray Bankrupt Dioceses.

Costs and pricing for full access to the online collection have not been finalized. Income generated from paying subscribers will be set aside in a special account administered by the Catholic Church.

The account will be used to reimburse losses by churches that have declared bankruptcy to eliminate their obligation to pay court judgments in sexual abuse cases.

Government, Industry Experts to Oversee Project

Funding for the collection's digitalization has been procured via an executive order from Italian PM Silvio Berlusconi, who has expressed a strong interest in "protecting our priceless cultural heritage." Berlusconi has appointed a confidential liaison to oversee the process.

Age verification, credit card processing, and account maintenance will be run by adult entertainment magnate Larry Flynnt."

The Vatican and BBC-News quickly disclaimed the announcement as a hoax, for despite constant rumors of the Secret Library within St Peter's Basilica the Papal Office has denied the existence of such a treasure trove of trash.

Of course it was an April Fool's Hoax, which comes from the pagan holiday of Hilaria.

March 25 instead of April 1.

Next year I'll be ready for Hilaria as will the rest of the pagan nation.

Looking Seaward

The next day The end of March No sun A misty cold wind ripped over the bluffs The Atlantic roughing the shore___ To the Eastern horizon Of ocean The rise of Block Island From the depths Of the Sea Bottom__ All land All 360 degrees The remnants Of The Great Glacier Melting 15000 years ago___ Now Barriers to the sea To spare the mainland Earth's fury___ Montauk point The end of America The waves Washing away the stray footprint Dropping Jetsam at the high tide mark Dragging back Flotsam on the shore break And the wind cold wet and from the Northeast With a sole New Englander Buffeting by breezes Standing Like a captain by the helm on a continent Out on the North Atlantic 110 miles from Manhattan Eyes seaward Dreaming Of lands around the world No longer land bound Free Found Free

The End of ALMOST A DEAD MAN

o ALMOST Yesterday I typed THE END to ALMOST A DEAMMAN 348 pages. Then spell check. Only seven typos I first wrote it in Ireland in 1997. I showed the novel to Shannon Greer who read it in a single night. I sent the manuscript to a few publishers and then left the USA for Thailand where I wrote three more novels sending them overseas to the US. Nothing, but I kept writing. I rewrote ALMOST A DEAD MAN in 2016, but was too broke to send it anywhere. When my diamond job ended in Christmas in 2024 I decided to clean up THE 2016 version. Two and a half months rewrite. 348 pages. Last two words. THE END. Now the hard part Finding and agent or publisher. Next a synopsis and outline and talk about it all the time. Along with everything else. I'm hoping to fly to Bangkok and Hong Kong next month. I start selling jewelry in Montauk this weekend. It was a long wintah. Mary Heaton Vorse reportedly said, "The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair. Today Recovering from post partem OF THE END. I woke this morning, thinking, "Are you mad?" A novel about pimps and whores with XXX sex scenes, BDSM, and violence and love and redemption and a woman's revenge against man, and fairy tales. Off the food stamps to see if I can get more. I had told them months ago that I was homeless, because I feel homeless. Insecure. Adrift. Apart. Like always do I'm comfortable that way. Wish me luck. Opening paragraphs of ALMOST A DEAD MAN Hamburg 192 The scurry of claws across the filthy floor startled the woman on the battered chair and she lifted her black stiletto heels in horror. Rats were the least of her problems. Over the phone her lover had suggested a nocturnal rendezvous on Kaiserkai. No one came to Hamburg’s harbor at night. The woman had driven down to the warehouse district alone for rough sex with her Willi. Instead two men had been waiting on the unlit dock and dragged her into an abandoned warehouse. Now in a damp basement she pleaded, “Please let me go, I haven’t done anything wrong?” "Nothing wrong?” The black man in the spotless jogging suit circled the chair. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes. He swatted the dusty 40-watt bulb dangling from the rafter, then tapped the woman’s gaunt face.  “Are you a saint?” “No, I am far from a saint.” The expensive wig flopped onto a folded lap. "Saints are only saints, because they are dead. You on the other hand are alive, because you are a sinner." Cali is still with us.