#jonathon richman

Hey Jersey Girl,

Once, after returning from some time travelling, I ended up in a crap job at a Mexican joint hostessing. 

Down the block was a business man's lunch/tourist trap oyster bar where they let me drink. I was 18 or 19.

The guy behind the oyster bar that I talked to most was Gary. He always wore a pearl necklace. The humor in this I only got this morning.

Even  so, he wore a pearl necklace long after I stopped fucking him and long, long after he quit the oyster bar and became a higher end chef.

And a bit sad, too.

He loved Jonathan Richman and would sing this song to me.

He was pock marked, about 25 years my senior, a conspiracy theorist, in retrospect a perv, but truly a sweet man. 

I always went to the restaurants where he worked for a beer or, later on, a coffee. He never failed to at least appear to seem super pleased to see me. Like I was a fucking celebrity from way back. For years. 

So here's a Saturday morning song from the 70's for Gary, the oyster shucker with a pearl necklace for my sweetheart.

-Wheels