Where last week, working with Thomas and the Bradley was a lot of fun, this week is a total 180 degrees from that. Really no fun to be had this week. And I suppose my chickens have come home to roost.

I admit being a musical fascist, I’m somewhat known for my musical savvy (or so I would like to think) today I’ve been effectively shut out of any musical decisions of what gets played here in the shop.

Thomas has been manning the controls today, jazz jazz jazz and a smattering of Yo Yo Ma playing Bach Cello Concertos which was mournful and made an already slow day seem like a patient etherized on the table. And how I wished to be that patient.

I almost felt like the patient. It’s really too bad, but I didn’t have any actual expectations. I had none whatsoever and still I was let down. I guess both Thomas and the Bradley had gone out and had a few separately making them somewhat hung over today.

I do know the Bradley had a few coffee tequilas last night, at least that’s what he said. Thomas was out and about with his fiancé, at a jazz show last night in the vicinity of the cigar shack.

I did have an opportunity to play some of my own choices, but eventually a customer asked if he could play just one jazz song. I knew it would be more than one jazz song (though it could actually be one very long jazz song).

In any event I am quite glad I have off tomorrow and won’t have to see these yobs until Monday. Really, anytime away from these yobs is quality time. I certainly have to get the hell out of this shop though.

Hopefully things will pick up by the end of the week. Or at least I will have a clue with regards to a new direction. Of course I play the role of the tragic optimist quite well thank you.

I did have the foresight to as Calvin to arrange for me to have May 1 & May 3 off. May 1 is the Art & Music Festival, Ian Hunter headlining. And May 3 is when Bill sings the National Anthem at CitiField. I sent Calvin the email so either it will register or fall by the wayside, depending on the point of sobriety he may be at when creating the schedule.

I did get a call from Pedro. We’re supposed to hang out tomorrow. Hard to believe I hadn’t seen him since last summer. Perhaps he will have a lead. He was pulling for me to get a job at so & so’s restaurant but apparently that fell through. 2 hours and 20 minutes to go.

Probably more jazz to be played. It was so bad that I stepped out earlier with my iPod and played the Ramones to clear the decks so to speak. Did wonders for me and I came back whistling Beat on The Brat.

A few hours later and I am home now, it’s almost 10:30. Got in about 15 minutes ago. My drawer was short 3 cents and I had to find out why things could not reconcile. I found the sale, voided it and reentered it adding the 3 cents.

This job truly fills me with despair and despondency and those feelings have been occurring more and more lately. Being a janitor seems preferable. I caught a subway downtown and listened to the Cocteau Twins which reminded me of Jet.

I got to the bus terminal and rode the escalators up. I pulled out the Keith Richards autobiography and started to read it, and changed the iPod from the Cocteau twins to the Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street.

I’ve owned Exile on vinyl but never really played it, and a few months ago I was able to get a copy of the deluxe CD from the bibliothèque, so I uploaded that. I pulled out Keef’s bio and started to listen to Casino Boogie when I felt a tap on my back.

Hyman Gross, tapping me with his cane. I did not see him at all, so focused I was on just getting home. Once again, thwarted from reading and escaping and relaxing. I talked with Hyman as we waited for the bus as well as riding on the bus.

Now I am home, more than happy to be here. RoDa texted me, telling me the bands at Maxwells were really kicking. If I wasn’t filled with dread and despair I might go, also if I wasn’t so damn tired, and if my knee wasn’t bothering me.

And Harpy called in response to my Facebook status. I am not alone, I have friends and family that love me. Nice to hear, but I really did not want to be on the phone with anyone, sorry Harpy. I’m so damn tired.

No posting tomorrow. Make up your own damn stories.