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I Heard You

This has been one of the most morose days. It shouldn’t have been but then again I woke up feeling morose and it colored my day through and through. Perhaps it was a continuance from yesterday. Last night was nothing special, except for seeing Bill for an hour before he went to bed.

After that it was me alone in front of the computer watching what gets posted on Facebook. Some good things, some informative things, and of course, some crap. I slept quite deeply, enough so that waking up was difficult. I did not want to get out of bed no matter how Eddie Money was telling me that he had two tickets to paradise, saying that I should pack my bags and we’ll leave tonight.

No, I’d rather have stayed in bed. And I should have really. Work has been one monstrosity after another. I find myself annoyed with so many things, so many people. Once again the comfort level has slipped through my fingers, making a mess on the floor which I of course will have to clean up. Bill has been excellent though. Always there with a hug and ears to listen.

Tomorrow I am not sure if I will write. I am off from work but then again I will have to work. I am attending an event for the unveiling of a new cigar and they geezer who’s name is on the cigar is celebrating his 86th birthday. I have to go and take photographs which shouldn’t be so bad, but overall I would rather be home.

I have a dental appointment in the afternoon and then after that will head to the cigar shack, and then to the Top of the Sixes where the event will be held. A lot of people are looking forward to it, so I guess I have no idea what to expect. Then again I have such low expectations that anything really could be a surprise.

Jimmy Seltzer is sitting in the man cave and Thomas just went back there to have a chat with him. Jazz has been playing for the past few hours and that likely has fouled my mood somewhat. Man I dislike jazz.

So not for me, too self indulgent, too virtuoso-esque. I’m not one for virtuosity, I like the concept that anyone can do it, hence my affection for punk and new wave. I don’t mind hearing it live most of the time, though when I took Bill to see Herbie Hancock at the Blue Note for Christmas a few years ago I was put off by the meandering and the fact that in 90 minutes only 3 songs were played.

And I do like and respect Herbie Hancock, just not that night. Just 18 minutes left of this jazz nonsense then I will be home. Not much to do tonight or tomorrow, just the dentist and the cigar event. Still it could be worse I suppose. My hair could catch fire and that would be a drag.

Now I am home. Feeling a bit better. Played Revolution Earth by the B-52’s on the bus and Vogue by Madge on the walk home. Both helped.






Nessun dorma

I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

Well I am home. I expected to get home later since a staph meeting was scheduled much to the dismay of Thomas and myself. I also had to go to work an hour earlier than usual which did not make me happy at all. I did sleep really well last night but that did not help with waking up in the morning. After a valiant struggle I was able to get out of bed and do my usual routine before heading out into the cold.

And it was quite cold this morning as I waited on Bloomfield Street for that 12 bus to Manhattan. Indifferent crowd on the bus an hour earlier. No one I knew so I just stared out the window, alternating with the smartphone. The cigar shack was dead yesterday and today promised to be the same only with a staph meeting being the cherry on top.

So for the first hour it was Zack and myself. Zack was ensconced on his office doing things and after a while he came out and told me that he had a lot of work on his hands and the staph meeting isn’t going to happen after all. I must have had a shit eating grin on my face as I explained to Zack that I didn’t mind about that. I told him that I understood that he is at the cigar shack all the time (except for weekends) and that I was not looking forward to getting into work at 10:30AM and not leaving until possibly 10:30PM.

Things picked up somewhat, proving that Mondays are not necessarily Sundays. Thomas came in and we clashed a few times. I do have to take a step back sometimes and realize that Thomas is only 25 and has so much more to learn about life and things. On the other end of the spectrum, Bradley and Jerry Vale were in today as well, in jeans and definitely not in a suit & tie like Thomas, Zack & myself.

They were working in the stock room cleaning things up so no need for fancy clothes. The day went along in an alright manner. I had a nice lunch at the diner, a Ma & Pa special and read the New Yorker. Back at the shack an hour later, actually a little bit earlier than an hour since Thomas was complaining about how hungry he was and how he didn’t want to have lunch at 5:00. I was about 10 minutes early so he was able to head out himself and saving me from hearing his whining about how late it was. It made a difference.

Bradley and Jerry Vale were done with their project and helped out with the unpacking of boxes. I found a nearly full box of cigars nestled in the area were we keep our empty cigar boxes. It was the second time that happened. Apparently someone has been putting boxes of cigars hidden among the empty boxes, perhaps hoping to steal them. Zack was surprised at this and I asked Bradley and Jerry Vale about it and they had no idea so that means whenever we give away our empty cigar boxes we have to make sure the boxes that get picked are truly empty.

With no staph meeting that meant I was able to leave early tonight, I was in early and Thomas was closing. Zack asked that I stay in case it gets busy but since it was not busy at all I left at around 8:45, roughly a half hour earlier than usual.

Uneventful bus ride home, and I listened to James, a band from the UK from the 1990’s that Eno produced. I never heard this particular album, Wah Wah but it’s very good.

Who cares if I am 15 years too late?


05. [Say Something]

I Got You Leona Lewis

Fuck this shit, Or rather FTS. That is what I posted on my Facebook page. In the past 48 hours I have spent roughly 24 hours at the cigar shack. Last night was the super bowl event which was totally boring to me and very uninteresting. I did not care one bit if one team beat another.

The super bowl event at the man cave at the cigar shack was attended by 9 customers and they were attended to by Jerry Vale and myself. The food was lousy but the customers got 3 cigars for their $75.00 fee. The food which was delivered had to be microwaved since it was cold when it was delivered.

A general waste of time and money if you ask me. Thankfully as soon as the super bowl was over the customers left, leaving Jerry vale and myself to clean up which was not so bad since Jerry vale and I took care of the cleaning throughout the super bowl. I did not get home until 13 hours after I originally left.

Zack and Bradley had the day off so they did not have to worry about anything. They had to get ready for the staph meeting tonight. So at the cigar shack we had a full staph which meant sales were down for everyone, except for Zack who sold tickets for another event somewhere in the future at $300.00 a pop. He grabbed the lion’s share, four figures where everyone else was in the low three figure sum.

The staph meeting started around 9:20 when I was done closing the register again for yet another day. I was toast, the 24 hours were bearing down on me. The staph meeting started with Zack telling Bradley, Thomas, Jerry Vale and myself that January was a good month and February is starting out to be very good as well.

I sat in the corner, outside the circle of the other four and did not say much. I was too tired. After Zack spoke then it was Bradley’s turn to speak. It was his first time to speak as an assistant manager and he did alright. Though I had things to say when Zack spoke, by the time the baton was passed to Bradley I had nothing.

I listened, stared with dead eyes and wanted to go home. I like Jerry Vale but he never shuts up sometimes. He can go on and on and if he is talking about skiing or the sporting goods store where he used to work, then he will go on forever. And sure enough he did.

Thomas noticed my vacant stare and chuckled to himself which probably made Zack and Bradley think we had something up our sleeves. The only thing up my sleeve was my watch which I couldn’t help but look at as the time passed. Bradley had the idea for Thomas, Jerry Vale and myself to think outside of the box. Now I have to find a box.





full moon rise


02 Breaking Glass

I Get Lonely Too Drake

Another spectacular day at the cigar shack. True things are quite slow, here, there and everywhere. A glass of Johnnie Walker Blue did not help much though Zack was quite generous is doling out glasses for Thomas, Bradley and myself as well as Zack. No one likes to drink alone so we all drank, separately.

I know I clinked glasses with Zack, not sure if Thomas or Bradley did the same. The day was spent mainly cleaning glass, removing glass and making sure it had no streaks. It makes the cleaning woman’s job that much easier. We spend the day cleaning the cigar shack, she comes in and puts her finishing touches on our work.

I don’t mind, I do like the cleaning woman, she is a sweetheart. She doesn’t speak much English, but we all like her enough that Thomas, Bradley, Jerry Vale and myself put some money in a Christmas card, which Bradley and myself did in 2010. I certainly hope to not be around to do that in 2012.

I have 12 months to make sure that doesn’t happen, but then again it is not up to me. It could be up to Zack, who might just kick me out when it comes time for the employee reviews come up. As far as I know they never came up before, at least I wasn’t reviewed. But with new big Swiss cheeses calling the shots, that is one of the things they have planned.

So meanwhile back at the cigar shack, the numbers, they aren’t so great. Between you and me and the wall behind you, paying the rent could be a problem especially in the area where the cigar shack is located. So far the numbers for January aren’t doing the magic that they hoped for, but then again it is only January 4. There is still that big Martin Luther King Jr sales weekend coming up.

A few weeks ago, the cigar shack had a drawing for a humidor. You had to buy a bag of cigars (that weren’t selling) and your name would be entered in a drawing for a humidor. Bradley pulled out a name that no one recognized and was going to pull out a name that we all knew. I told him that was not right, that it wasn’t fair.

The rule is the name that gets pulled out first is the one that gets called. Bradley’s argument was that life isn’t fair. I agreed that life wasn’t fair but here was an opportunity to make it somewhat fair. So they called the gent who one and left a message. Three weeks later, the humidor is still here, the winner has not returned our calls so a customer that the staff knows will more than likely get the humidor, rather than someone named Addeo.

Another long day is taking it’s sweet ass time in getting to the end. Bill is at home cleaning the apartment with his friend Fred, the heart breaker. 14 degrees when I left the apartment this morning, wore the leather jacket I bought for Bill 2 Christmases ago under my overcoat.

Time (Clock Of The Heart)

I Feel Like Dancin’

I can’t help but wonder if someone toasted me with ‘May you live in interesting times’. For these are interesting times. The nap after breakfast thing that worked so well yesterday did not so shit today. I was so sure that it would.

After breakfast, after the shower, after checking emails I figured I had enough time for a quick nap before getting on with my day, but it turned out that it was impossible, even with the optimum circumstances of it pouring rain outside. So with nothing better to do and more time to kill I surfed the net, took out the trash and recyclables and then got dressed.

A stop at the dry cleaners was afforded by my extra time and after that, en route to the bus stop a all too brief chat with Bill. He was inundated with work much earlier than anticipated. I stood near the bus stop, enjoying a cigar under the canopy of an antique store which is only open three days a week. I guess the shop owner, also owns the building.

Despite my being early I did not count on being stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel in bumper to bumper traffic. It wasn’t so bad, since I was above ground I was able to text Zack to let him know that I would probably be late. No response and of course I had no choice but to continue on my not so merry way to work.

And of course when I got to the platform it was crowded which meant no trains had come through in a while. The a capella guys were there with their stand up bassist doing their usual credible job but really I wasn’t in the mood for them nor did I have any money to toss into the hat. And that is something I don’t do so much anymore, no money for my once fellow buskers.

Work was alright, somewhere to go, something to do, and something to smoke. Just Bradley and Zack and me today and it wasn’t so bad. Bradley’s been really great lately and Zack as I wrote a few weeks ago is expecting a child with his wife. So he’s in a good mood. Nothing hormonal on his end. And now I am in the final hour, dregs of bourgeois society clamber on through the area, dragging their feet and falling off their wet heels.

The Sugarcubes are on, Bjork singing Birthday. It beats the New Orleans holiday dirges that play on endless loop in this shopping area. With each trumpet blare I loathe Wynton Marsalis a little bit more. A little over twenty minutes left in the cigar shack and I am very glad to be off work tomorrow.

It’s been a while since I’d seen Jimmy Seltzer which means he will probably be in tomorrow when I am not. He did have good advice as well, reminding me that I am a good worker. True I don’t like my job but I still come in every day and do a good job, I am a team player, well regarded by the customers mostly. Or at least by Jimmy Seltzer.




08 Hey, Snow White

I Don’t Want To Be

At work right now, been a longish day at the cigar shack. Last night was alright, Bill Maher with Bill and then he was off to bed. I stayed up a little while longer. I looked up an old friend, no longer a friend online.

He hasn’t aged well judging by the picture but he was the number one employee at a Jewish nursing home in Bergen County. I was happy to see he was doing alright. My brother Brian into him a few years ago and to my surprise he was asking about me. Brian relayed the message and I in turn told Brian all about the falling out between us.

Basically this guy was the first person I ever came out to regarding my sexuality. What prompted the coming out was his then girlfriend asking me if I thought this guy was gay. I didn’t know but decided to broach the subject one night in the 1980’s when driving around and smoking pot.

He wasn’t gay but I told him I was and since we were working together in that book warehouse in Saddle Brook NJ, and with my mother working in the office I asked this guy not to say anything about my sexuality. Well he told his dotty girlfriend who also worked in the warehouse and she told two friends and so on and so on.

The next day I went to work half the people I was friends with were no longer my friends. My secret was out and it was then I discovered who my real friends were. As far as I know my mother was kept from this truth until it fell to me to tell her and the rest of my family the truth.

My sister did ask once in the late 1970’s if I was gay, since I had no girlfriends and my first instinct was to lie lie lie. I was going to an all boy’s high school and a regional high school at that, so no friends from school male or female were in my vicinity.

There was Paul Slavin who lived in the next town a few blocks away but I never hung out with him since he was so snobby. There was also a gay cruising area between, my house and Paul’s house and whenever I said I was going to Paul’s house I would usually be waylaid and laid on the way.

A few years later, my father had time on his hands due to retirement and while wandering through his house and into my room, discovered some gay porn. I thought it was alright since my brothers had Playboy and Penthouse in their rooms but who was I kidding besides myself?

I neglected to mention the night of my first anxiety attack. I was going to see the Who with my brother Frank and while waiting for him to pick me up in 1979, I got into a fight with my constant nemesis Brian. Brian dropped the bomb on me, telling me he was going to tell our parents about the magazines under my bed and that I was a pervert.

Frank couldn’t arrive to pick me up fast enough (then again he never could) and the ride was mainly me sitting in the passenger seat as he smoked weed and I maintained my silent nervous breakdown. Brian never brought it up again.

So eventually my dad found the mags and he told my mom, who told Frank, who told Annemarie who told Brian and when it came to me I had no choice to own the truth. Yes I am gay, and I have to leave. I didn’t have to leave but I did if I was going to live my life the way I wanted to.






Bronski Beat – Smalltown Boy 12 Inch Version

I Don’t Know Why (I Love You)

En bunden af ​​tønde slags dage. Bogstaveligt talt jeg følte lyst til at græde på et tidspunkt! But enough of all that. Things did get better a little bit but hardly enough. A headache and the weather did not help matters much.

I did see Stine this morning. It was the first time since July and she was looking good. Of course Alexander wasn’t with her, he’s been in preschool lately. The tales she told of him were of course pretty funny. ‘No you can’t eat a fudge brownie in my bed’ ‘Mommy you are making me so unhappy’.

Of course that would sound hilarious from the mouth of a three and a half year old, it doesn’t really translate well onto paper, or in this case, a computer screen. The bus ride was uneventful, met up with neighbor Deborah who was singing the temp blues and is looking to get out of the situation she finds herself in.

She helped organize a Broadway show for autistic children and it was a rousing success. Who knew autistic children would connect so much with Equus? But she is not receiving the proper credit for it and so she starts to read the writing on the wall. She has some irons in the fire so hopefully that will work out for her.

At work it was Bradley and Thomas and myself. It was Bradley’s birthday today so he was in a good mood. He is off tomorrow and to put it in his words, he will be ‘trolling for pussy’. No plans for drinks after work with Bradley. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of his trolling.

I hope when I get home the transfer of my photos and music from the old computer, now stored on Rand’s portable hard drive. Rand needs the hard drive back so I think I will be going home and getting the hard drive and walking it to Rands.

Even if the transfer is incomplete I will have to give it back nonetheless. I though I had transferred most of it earlier but I didn’t finish it. It’s my own fault and all I can say is ‘oh well’. I can up for it anyhow some way.

Now it’s just Thomas and myself and it’s not so bad. Not much is going on and things have slowed down considerably in the realm of the cigar shack. Not much contact with the outside world which is just as well since the last time I went outside it was raining. That is what upset me so.

I was looking forward to going outside for my lunch break but it was very wet outside. Rain and drizzle falling sideways and an encounter with a bird did not help matters much either. I sequestered myself in the closet like office and read Bob Mould’s autobiography which was somewhat entertaining.

I have to finish it by October 19 since another gay punk rocker wants to read it and it’s quite new according to the BCCLS system. Well I came home, climbed the four flights, changed from my suit & tie to street wear, grabbed the hard drive and was out on the street again while Bill was fast asleep. I met up with Rand on Washington Street and made the hand off, telling him to put it in his pocket, it would look like he’s carrying a friend. ‘Cause these guys don’t dance and word is out this our last chance.

I walked Rand home. He’s busy with the ComiCon going on this weekend. He’s working on behalf of the Jack Kirby Museum and on Saturday he is hosting a party/opening at Maxwells, called Kirby Enthusiasm. It’s the reason I took off on Saturday so I could attend and support Rand.

Død over den dovne sutten!


Home

I’m going to do something different. I could be doing it for a day or two or I could very well continue doing it forever. There is no end date in sight you see. Once again, I’m tired. Not of writing. Unfortunately it’s one of the few things I do well.

Other things I do well is self censorship. Keeping my true thoughts and feelings hidden. So I might not be doing that. No, for now, for today, I am only writing this for 2 people, Annemarie & Harpy.

They can do what they want with this. Delete it, spam it, or even repost it somewhere else. It’s up to them. I don’t really care. Just writing at least 500 words to keep up my end of the bargain. I’ve written 1,463 entries since October 2005. All with the promise to myself that I will write at least 500 words.

I’m not breaking that promise.

Harpy, one of the recipients might have a clue as to why I’m not posting anymore. That is, I told him last night why I was thinking about not posting anymore. Whether or not he remembers, is not my concern.

I’m feeling despondent today. Professionally and creatively. Professionally you will understand with me being unemployed. Creatively stems from what I wrote the other day.

Thinking I might get some words of encouragement and support from the 5 subscribers (who never, ever comment and probably do not read those things that I posted), or from people who have told me they read what I write every day.

That would include some family members, mainly my brother Brian and his wife Karen. I understand they have their own dramas going on, dramas that are probably more important than me feeling sorry for myself. My brother Frank did call, surprising me and telling me that he had read the previous entry, but not in so many words.

And it’s obvious that without the support and encouragement that I actually hoped for, I was able to do whatever it was I had to do. Which was to go on a interview.

The interview went well. I was comfortable but that could be from the Xanax that I took yesterday morning.

I’m sure Bill doesn’t read this forsaken blog, but he is supportive in real life. He helped me out yesterday, revamping the resume, and editing things down. I had a really good feeling about this job, despite my trepidation.

After a few edits working with Bill and the counselor I met with I hoped for the best. That was probably a mistake, getting my hopes up.

This morning while taking a shower, I heard my cellphone ring. After I dried myself off I checked the message. It was the counselor asking me to call her back which I did immediately.

She said the company had my resume and would I be available to meet with them either today or tomorrow. I said today since I had such a good feeling about it.

I did not expect a call back about 5 minutes later, the counselor saying that the company has decided to forgo the whole process that was set up and they were not seeing anyone after all.

So it’s been one of those days.

But it was also one of those days that I actually used common sense and didn’t do something that I was going to do. It might have actually made me feel better but ultimately it was foolish.

So I stayed home.

Ugly

Ugh. What a day. Some of it could be blamed on last night. Drinks and some noshes with Pedro did my head in later in the night. I fell asleep at a decent hour and slept ok I guess. Well not really since I was a bit drunk.

Woke up ok. Bill kissing me goodbye, me sleeping until 6:30 which is better than the 7:15 that it’s been the past couple of days. Not enough milk for cereal but enough for coffee. It was in the 30 degree range this morning and an occasional snowflake drifted down to the ground.

The office was buzzing along though I felt like I was invisible. I said good morning to the usual drones and didn’t get anything said back to me. I didn’t care but I did notice so maybe I cared a little bit. Vivek was off to Mexico leaving me with a few tasks to do, including an errand down to 28th and 7th Avenue.

That warranted a subway ride to 28th street then a walk across town. I decided to walk back, listening to Simple Minds. Got back to the office feeling ok but as I waited for the final hour of the day to be over I started to feel tired.

Nevertheless I walked back across town to the bus terminal, enjoying a Padron. Got on the bus which wasn’t crowded at all but right in front of me a woman complained to another passenger across the aisle and loud enough for me to hear that ‘it smelled like someone was smoking a cigar here’.

I just sat and read the New Yorker. Went to Empire Coffee at 4th and Bloomfield in Hoboken. My old pal Jeff wasn’t there. They cut back his hours so maybe today was one of the days that were cut.

Then it was office to the supermarket where there was a girl with a pierced face, dressed all in black with purple extensions in her dyed jet back hair to compliment the gigantic platforms she clod hopped around in. Ever since the demise of Farfetched I have no tolerance for Goth brats.

Came home very tired. Could barely stay awake during Harpy’s Heckle and Jeckle impersonation. He does both parts.

Tired to access my gmail account but it tells me my password is wrong. I enter it again same message. I go to help which tells me it will send my information to my Verizon email account, which I haven’t used in years since I no longer use Verizon.

I don’t even remember my Verizon log in name and gmail asks when I started my account. What month and year. I guess and say February 2004. Still no access.

My other gmail account is fine and despite me contacting gmail telling them to send it to that working gmail account. Now I am tired and frustrated and trying to write at least 500 words. Yes, I am hitting that wall while going back and forth trying to see if gmail is of any assistance to me.

Basically I am pissed off. The latest message from the lack of help department of gmail is that it may take 24 hours to get me a new password. That is infuriating. I use Firefox and the password is saved in my browser and somehow it’s wrong. I am now suffering from gmail withdrawal.

Argh!

Bullshit!
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