The Zoo Crew Review

Okay, let's get right into it. The place, the Internet Cafe, where I sit blogging while shooting glances at the ridiculously attractive Greek girl who manages the place. I called her over once before because I was having trouble with the disk in my hard drive if you will -- nudge nudge, wink wink. But seriously. I was last here a-blogging on Tuesday, and seconds before my 30 minutes were up here at the cafe, at around 12:30, I got a call from my agency saying I was needed that very afternoon at S. Communications, you know, that ad agency down on Varick, could I be there by 2:30? Fuck yeah, I said, paraphrasing slightly, because at 25 beans an hour I am so there, as this generation is all too wont to say. Not my generation, your generation. So that was a four-hour gig and they said they'd need me back there soon for some other catalogs. But so far I no hear from them. I wait with baited breath. I edited a fashion catalog and immediately found three words egregiously misspelled: medaillion, ostritch and incrusted. Earned my money right there!

Speaking of attractive girls, that place is chock full of attractive people. Even the gay guys there are attractive, and I am secure enuf in my staunch hetero role to say that. I mean, sometimes I wish I was gay, or at least bi, because you can double your choices that way and, if the stars are right, you can also double your wardrobe. Hello? Is this mic on?

I don't think I mentioned, for the benefit of the 3 or so people who read this blog, that last Friday I worked at C.B. again, but it looks like that was the end of the project. Their latest calendar 2007 stylee has been published by the time you read this, and that was what I worked on for, oh, about 7 or 8 different days. So if you find anything wrong, I have to take at least partial blame. Oh the humanity! I hope they call me back for some other project. We shall see what we shall see, as my old 11th grade English teacher Sy Syna used to say, a man who defined eccentricity.

The catering front has also been active this week. On Wednesday I reported to an elite, overexpensive upper east side private learning academy for some sort of cocktail party. When I arrived I was surprised to hear that basically I was the staff for that night. It turned out to be me and Luis, but there were only around 60 people, but that didn't stop me from asking for captain's pay, half-jokingly, but only half. The captain basically gets double what everyone else gets. so if you make 20 an hour as a regular staff member, captains get 30 or 40... There was a small bar, with wine and soft drinks, and then we passed out appetizers, blah blah. the easiest party I worked by far. but I had to be back at the same school the next morning at 8 am yesterday for some kind of brunch and then lunch. For some reason I literally could not and did not sleep more than an hour. I kept looking at the alarm -- 1am, 2am, 4am... I think I got an hour in between 4:30 & 5:30, then up at 6 and to the city by 7:30. and I busted my ass too.
It's funny, in the food business the Lingua Franca is Espanol, pure and simple. And it's amazing how much Spanish I retained from the six years I took in school, shit it's gotta be almost 30 years ago now. yesterday the six other people in the kitchen were all Hispanic, and some spoke very little English. But we were all able to communicate. Isn't that special?

Today Friday I am hoping for a last minute call from the Agency sending me back to S.Comm. It's a little after 10 now. Ya never know.

There's a big Astoria reunion being planned for sometime in November. Gat is running the whole show from his estate down in Florida. If you're reading this, my man, I miss you & I look forward to seeing you & the rest of the crew. We were literally like brothers growing up, even called ourselves the Brotherhood, me, Gat, Urb, the Admiral, Trixter, Buddy Bider, Big Mike... We were the Zoo Crew, always Zooing, throwing abuse, going egging, just for the Zoo of it, you understand. Hanging out in the busses, the trailers, the big park, the little park, meeting at Pop's candy store for pinball & egg creams, cruising down AP, breaking day, playing the box game in the hallway on cold nights, pitching quarters, playing stoopball, ace king queen, chipping in for nickel bags and smoking the whole thing in B0bby Lopez's blue Buick Fury, heading off for punk nights in the City in Trixter's black and white Skamobile or Urb's father's green monte, or mike's mother's huge blue stationwagon, doing Ludes or black beauties or mesc or mushrooms to enhance the mood. Meeting at Cheer's to hurl abuse at the Muffler Club, burning the flag on the wall in true punk fashion, living only for the now, wearing our leathers, leather weather, going out to Hurrah's or Danceteria or Heat & dancing & sweating, laughing & living.