johnozed

Back home after a day back at the cigar shack. On board today were Zack, Bradley and Thomas as well as myself. It was a long day, and not because of the cigar shack. I went to bed earlier than usual last night and did not sleep well. At 1:30 I was up again at the computer just to get out of bed since trying to get to a deep sleep was proving to be impossible.

I took a melatonin but it did not do what I hoped it would do. About 30 minutes later I was back in bed, tossing and turning and having vaguely violent dreams. Luckily I did not hit Bill. But I kept waking up every hour and tossed and turned again. Kept thinking about the cigar shack and kept thinking about two phone interviews that I had earlier in the day.

Nothing was guaranteed but I could not help but think about the combination of jobs and job offers and it didn’t exactly make me relax. I had to get up early in the morning and start my day with a meeting in midtown. A familiar neighborhood with unfamiliar faces. It went well though nice space, nice people and now it’s all wait and see.

Of course in the back of my mind it’s all ‘you’re in over your head here’ even though it is all about things that I had done before and did them quite well. Will Google (oops!) call me back? Who knows? It would be nice though. The hours promise to be a bit crazy but manageable.

And throughout the day I kept getting phone calls from the really cool company with the ping pong tables in Newark. I’m not taking them too seriously since I am way cool enough and they’ve been stringing me along for a number of months already. The whispering tones of Jerry Vale waft through the air, singing ‘you may not like it here, but you do have it good here’. I will ask him to elaborate more on that tomorrow when I work with him again.

Today was pretty good at the cigar shack. I did get top sales though Bradley did grab the official title since he had the big money account from a rinky dink cigar lounge a few blocks away. The rinky dink cigar lounge orders several times a week, dealing mainly with Bradley. Scott Raspberry runs the rinky dink cigar shack and when he calls he asks for his ‘boyfriend’ Bradley.

And the guy who works at the rinky dink cigar lounge and picks up from the cigar shack occasionally makes ‘fag’ comments when he talks to Bradley. For these two reasons I don’t have anything to do with the rinky dink cigar lounge and won’t set foot in there ever again.

I did have my going away party at the rinky dink cigar lounge when I was leaving Wanker Banker but never knew of the goings on behind the scenes, like how the the guy who picks up the cigars for each order can procure young women for sex if a customer wants one. Apparently you can get in a limo and cruise the streets and get a blow job in the back seat as the driver makes his way through the streets. No, it’s not my scene.

Now I am home and happy to be here. Bill is asleep once again and Bill Maher prattles on the television behind me. Back to work tomorrow and hopefully Sunday Bill will be singing the national anthem at CitiField, if the weather permits.

I asked the LaRouche people why Obama has a Charlie Chaplin mustache,..

...they said it was because Obama makes funny films like Chaplin.

Ogle!

some other guy

Happy 420 everyone

Another day at the cigar shack. How many times have I written that as the lead in? Today it’s a Tuesday. I guess I didn’t scream in the middle of the night like I did the night before as Bill told me I did from Sunday into Monday. I don’t recall that at all, but then again I was asleep.

He said it might have happened around 1:30 and since I don’t go to bed until 1:00 in the morning I doubt if I fell fast asleep enough to yell. Perhaps it was Bill having a dream. I did have a dream last night that involved Amazons. I think it had something to Trayvon Martin.

I’ve been reading a lot about the murder of 17 year old Trayvon Martin and posting on Facebook. In this information age, I am surprised by the fact that a number of people I know, Bill included, are completely unaware of this tragedy. I had tried to avoid hearing the 911 phone call and last night I heard it. Truly heartbreaking.

The lout of a community watchman slurring into the phone and not listening to the police officer on the other end, telling him not to follow Trayvon Martin. But he did, and frightened Trayvon Martin enough that Trayvon tried to get away but was cornered and on the tape you can hear the 17 year old boy screaming for his life, then you hear a gunshot and then nothing.

The murderer whose father is a lawyer with ties to the Sanford, FL police department, was not tested for drugs or alcohol and not arrested for the murder of Trayvon Martin. In fact neighbors who had given the police their accounts of what happened, were steered by the police, saying the screams were of the shooter, 250 pounds versus 140 pounds. A tragedy for all concerned. And for me, another reason to not go to Florida.

At the cigar shack it’s been weird. For a good part of the day I felt like an outsider, which I guess I am but it was compounded for some reason. I did excellent sales wise today, my first sale was a lot of money. My high tide raised all boats. And then my second sale wasn’t exactly small potatoes. Thomas wasn’t in today but I know that if he were in today he would be quite jealous and would let me know how upset he was. But he wasn’t.

Of course in the back of my mind, there is a calendar countdown. The customers have 14 days to return the items and make me eat the sale. So I still have some breathing space I guess.

Today is the first day of spring and the temperature was most definitely springlike. Quite nice at lunchtime and I was able to enjoy a cigar as I sat on the bench near the park and read about David Bowie recording Ziggy Stardust and Lee Renaldo talk about Sonic Youth with a picture of everyone’s friend Bob Bert from that long ago time of the 1980’s.

Now it’s the last hour at the cigar shack, things have quieted down considerably. I just want to go home now. Still have an hour to go.

Now, I am home.






15 Voices Inside My Head