Monday, June 30

As promised, the play-by-play of yesterday after the cafe....

I read on the train from Boston to Gloucester. Nothing much happened there except that for the first time in my life I saw kids working on the grafitti wall in Beverly. I always sit on that side of the train and make sure I am paying attention when we pass the wall. Lately it is mostly tags, not many pictures.

Got off the traina little past three and walked down School St. toward Fiesta. I walked past Steve Padre's house, but I couldn't remember exactly which house it was-- two next to eachother look very similar. I don't think he lives there anymore anyway. Stopped in at the bookstore and saw Patrick. Spent some time looking at a book of photographs from the 70's (the book I was reading on the train had just mentioned a march in Cambodia and I was interested in seeing pictures of Cambodia). I get into a sort of dream-state when I read on the train. It's like a time warp. Anyway, I wanted to keep it going. Ran into Gerrit and Beverly at the Bookstore as well.

I stopped at Cafe Sicilia to see if Franco was back, he wasn't. Went to Ambie's for a sausage. Used to go every year with my grandmother but this year alone was nice. What's-his-name Nicastro, maybe it's Dom, cut in front of me. Ambie's son was annoyed, but he is Ambie's nephew and the announcer for the greasy pole, so Ambie wanted to give him a sausage first. Sat on the curb next to Matt Bryant, who is now a vegetarian but remembers loving to geta sausage at fiesta. When he left I moved to the bleachers in the square. Finished my sausage and went to the beach for the seine boat races and greasy pole. Ended up standing next to Beverly and Gerrit. We watched the race together, but I felt my dreamy mood drifting away, so I started walking around the beach.

I ended up close to the water. This girl ina bikini was filming the greasy pole. She was a total hottie and before I knew it Greg Cook (no relation) was next to me, keeping an eye on the greasy pole and the girl. At first I admired her confidence, being able to be up there standing on a cooler in a bikini taping the thing, but I began to dislike her soon enough. She spit on the ground. She smoked and put her butt out int he sand, leaving it there. She talked on a cell phone loudly while filming. She got off the cooler and moved a father with his daughter on his shoulder. You might think I was obsessing in watching her, but the greasy pole went to five rounds and it is very very very long. There isn't much to do but watch people. And I was sort of hoping that this ideal of physical beauty would also be lovely in manner, I don't know, maybe just not so crass. I would feel less creeped out by the leering men if she remained lovely in my eyes.

Eventually Jake Wood (famous for winning all three days several years ago) got the flag. Greg and I didn't stay for the junior seine boat races. We went up for canoli and espresso at Cafe Sicilia. Franco was there with his new wife Heather. We sat and talked for a long time, then Greg had to get his film to the paper and write a story for today. I stepped into the Blackburn but theplace was packed with sailors and I didn't think I should stay there alone, just wasn't up for the hassle.

More later, my inlaws are here.

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