My heart beats for the one I love. That is how the song goes. It’s from the 1980s, which doesn’t seem so long ago but it actually is. Ran out 40 years. Crazy, I know. Bill came home last night after being away for something like 9 days. And he didn’t drive me crazy like he often does . He was subdued as was I.

At the fruit stand once again. I will be here all week and next week at the belly from Monday through Thursday. Last time it was not so bad and I don’t see why next week would be any different. it’s quiet today and it was yesterday. There was an interesting thing that happened though.

As I sat at my desk the elevator opened up and a young man got out. He promptly walked over to the lobby window as he talked on the phone. I certainly paid attention to what he was doing and no alarms were raised. He soon ended his phone call and tried to get in which of course was up to me.

I opened the door and said “good afternoon “ and asked if I could help him. He mentioned that he had a meeting with a DJ I let him in. I asked if he had any codes that were sent to expedite his entry but nothing had been sent. I went about entering him in the system and asked the usual questions.

His name was Issac and he made sure that I spelled it right, I asked for his last name and he spelled that out, Ferry. I asked, “like Bryan? Any relation?” And Issac said that Bryan Ferry was his dad.That led to some interesting chats about Roxy Music. I can’t say that I was much of a fan but a few friends were and reading the UK magazines I knew enough to fake it.

Issac was pleasant enough and soon the DJ came out to collect him. I busied myself as usual, staring down the clock. Issac came out after meeting with the DJ and made it a point to shake my hand and invite me to a screen of a documentary on Ron Delsener.

I knew who Ron Delsener is, having gone to a few concerts and shows at some of his venues. I gave Issac my info and he put me down with a plus one. He might’ve said two but I am going with one. My paranoia and doubt have a say in the matter and nag me asking if I was sure there is a plus one.

I am taking Bill and hope that there is a plus one, paranoia be damned. And if there is no plus one, we will have a pleasant time just strolling around midtown Manhattan on an autumn evening and that would be fine with me.

For the past few days I have been using a tablet to write. It seems to be agreeable and a lot easier to use than the nightmare of dictation.

For the past hour or two I have been going crazy trying to move this post for editing later on. I was not getting anywhere. I saw my Wi-Fi connection was gone and spent too much time trying to get it back to no avail.

I figured I would have to bring the iPad home and have Bill do his Mac magic. Then Jimmy Chile arrived and as I sputtered my dilemma, Jimmy Chile let me know the Wi-Fi password was changed, unbeknownst to me.

Well done denizens of the belly.

Once again, the story goes. Bill is on his way back home today. I certainly hope things go according to plan. The plan is ever changing. Mike was supposed to come over last night and be around when Bill drives by with his bus to drop off his luggage.But Mike has an appointment with an agency that provides support to him.
They sometimes cancel at the last minute so that has to be taken into consideration.

So Bill will have to handle all that on his own. I am at the fruit stand once again. I thought I would be assigned to the belly once more but not this week. Next week will be a repeat of last, in the belly Monday to Thursday. And at this moment I do not have the anxiety that is usually attached.

Right now the anxiety that exists is mainly from Yancy being meddlesome. Things are getting handled without his interference but I suppose he has to justify whatever it is that he is doing.I almost took the day off. I knew Bill was going to need some help and I could have done that. And I didn’t sleep that well last night. As I drifted off to sleep I remembered that I needed to get the door pass to the housekeeper. I usually place it somewhere but didn’t and only remembered when my head was hitting the pillow.

An extra hour would have been nice and being able to help Bill would have more than likely dispelled the guilt that accompanies staying home from work. Cocteau Twins are playing right now. The album TREASURE. It’s the album that I link to Jet Watley, as he played the record quite often when we lived together at 201 Madison Street. It was a fun and awkward time and lasted longer in my mind than it did in real time.
Jet was a wonderful friend.

Juan was another wonderful friend. Both have left their mortal coils much too soon. Juan was someone I met on gay dot com. A website that no longer exists.Juan had just turned 18 or was about to. A lot of guys would not have anything to do with him because of the age thing. We both liked a lot of the same music and had similar senses of humor.

It wasn’t sexual though we did fool around maybe once or twice. And I think he was in love with me though I didn’t realize it at the time. Julio noticed it I think, calling Juan ‘Lamont Cranston’ as in The Shadow. And I didn’t notice it then either.

Juan was living with his parents in Union City and would come to hang out with me and Bill. Bill didn’t smoke pot but Juan and I sure did. Like Jet, Juan turned me onto a lot of good music. Jet had access from when he worked at Tower Records and Juan had access from being a young, hip person.

After months or maybe years, Juan was gets tired of just hanging out at my crib and made overtures to go to a bar in Jersey City. I always resisted since I was already comfortable in my crib and very stoned. Juan went and insisted but it never came to be.

Eventually Juan met Michael Cullen, a school administrator who loved to shoot up crystal meth on weekends. They lived together in Leonardo NJ and from what I gathered it was not the best time for Juan. Michael Cullen hid Juan’s hiv meds, at least that was what Juan told me.when sending me pharmaceutical labels and syringes as well as bloody straps used for shooting up.

Juan eventually escaped Michael Cullen’s clutches and was back in Hudson County. he turn3d himself around, travelled to India and graduated college. He also had a job waiting tables that he actually loved, despite his mother’s disdain, seeing him as another El Salvadoran working in a restaurant.

Juan and I went to some concerts, art galleries and met up at the Met one time. Eventually we drifted apart. He was young and wanted to get out and enjoy life and I had enough of that and just wanted to stay home and watch tv.

The last time I saw Juan was when I was working at Trader Joe’s in Hoboken. It was fleeting and I flouted the pandemic rules, taking off my mask and giving him a hug and a kiss. We said the adult thing about meeting up and getting together neither one of us knowing it was the last time.

I went about my business and eventually left Trader Joe’s and worked for a restaurant that had the misfortune of opening up during a pandemic. Then I worked for Barry McGarry. It did look into getting Juan a job there but obviously it would not have been a good idea.

September came and went and I didn’t notice the lack of a birthday greeting until Juan’s birthday approached in November. For some reason I looked Juan up on Google, and the first thing that came up was his obituary. I was floored. He passed away five years ago today and I found out over a month after that in 2021.

It felt like he died twice. His mother, who he had butted heads with, posted heartbreaking messages about her only son. There was a memorial service but I found out too late. I read that Juan and his mother sang Hey Jude as he passed away. Juan would have mocked me for such.a thing but he got a pass.

Juan passed at 33. I’m not sure when Jet passed but I would be comfortable with 33 I’m sure he would too..

Juan Miguel Rosales Jr.
November 03, 1987 – September 29, 2021