This job at hand.

I have been at the fruit stand for over a year. I have my friendly coworkers. We check in on each other, sometimes when we are not working. I remember when I started at the fruit stand I felt I was being set up. Things were a little bit too easy. And there was still the recovery from the minefield of the oh so sensitive children at Barry McGarry.

This world is 180 degrees from that. And I was so worried I even tearfully called my brother Brian telling how unprepared I was for his gig and conessing my self doubt and lack of confidence. The odd thing about that was Brian is not someone I would go to for a confession or an ego boost. And neither was my brother Frank one to confess to.

No fault to them at all, it’s just not how they were wired to be, at least not with me. I’m sure they were both good with their offspring but with me, it was a whole ‘nother world that they would rather not deal with or know about. And once again, I am not finding them at fault.

And work is still the same. I don’t wake up with the dread I used to have. Even Barry McGarry was OK until the pandemic wound down and the crybaby millennials arrived. I suppose the bitch called Danielle Chieffo was/is a millennial. Not sure if they’re alive or not, nor do I care.

The Bicycle Ride.

Yesterday was Sunday, the last day in May. That means today is the first day of June. It had been a while since I last rode my bicycle. Perhaps September, maybe October. In the interim, I developed an anxiety of bke riding. And a fear of ticks.

The anxiety was overcome, after I got the bicycle ready for the road. Tires inflated, wrist mirror set. The speedometer/odometer was still working so no need to change the battery and the noise making device for the handlebars.

I decided to take my time, not racing down the street. I rode down Coles Street where Mike is fond of taking photos. Mike was not there as he was busy with his beloved Wade.

People are still terrible drivers. Making right turns from left lanes. Bicycle riders aren’t much better either. I’m sure the same could be said about me. I made it into Liberty State Park. A great swath of wildlands had been torn down, perhaps anticipating a golf course or some other eyesore for the rich.

I made it to my friend, Tree, just as a man and a woman and their Australian Shepherd were departing. I took some photos of the park, the wasteland and the back end of the Statue of Liberty, as well as myself jumping in the air. That took a while to negotiate the timer of my phone. Out of quite a few I deemed 3 to be worthwhile.

I got back on the bike, riding through more populated areas which was a bit annoying and I was rusty, in dealing with these pedestrians who walk en masse filling the pathways with elderly people and baby strollers. One good thing was that new pathways were newly paved, perhaps for the razing of the wetlands so that the equipment could move smoothly to the destruction of unspoled nature.

They also culled many of the deer that lived in the area. For those playing at home, to cull means to kill. And the fear of ticks was that the ticks usually attach themselves to deer. Now that the deer have been slaughtered, where will the ticks go?

Then Monday morning PATH train.

Last week, for the second time in two weeks, there was a fire in the AMTRAK tunnels to Penn Station, filling the tunnels with smoke and effectively shutting down Penn Station. That meant trains are diverted to Hoboken leaving the suburbanites to take the PATH train. These people are not used to taking that type of public transportation. Oh, dear.

This morning on the platform I had a good idea where the doors would open which would allow me to find a fast seat. Unfortunately a suburbanite woman was next to me and as soon as the doors opened I swept in brushing past her ample bosom, which I grazed with my hand.

She muttered ‘Jesus’ and I of course replied, ‘I’m not him’. She went to one end of the car and could not find a seat so she turned and walked to the other end. As she passed me I did offer her my seat but she just grumbled looking for another elusive seat.

I hoped she wasn’t getting off at my station and thankfully, she didn’t.

A nice spring day which I am hesitant to mention lest things go awry. That is always a possibility. I got to the fruit stand and adjusted the shades which made a difference. And as the sun moved, as the earth moved, I readjusted the shades so that things will appear brighter, luminous wise.

Quick confession. On my way from one fruit stand to another fruit stand, I visited a dispensary that Jimmy Chile recommended. I have gone there a few times already and was generally satisfied. Yesterday’s visit was more of the same with a different product, which I enjoyed last night and am pleasantly feeling the after effects this morning.

It feels like a throwback to the way things used to be, not knowing if what Marcus or Jesse or Poncho, my Rasta bredren, was indica or sativa since those terms existed but were never used, at least not by us. Maybe they would say that one week it was very mellow or the next week was a bit energetic.

The mellow would be indica and the energetic would be sativa. I always go for the indica as I do not need stimulation, especially near bedtime. So, I am happily hungover, everything is pleasantly fuzzy around the edges and I am OK with that.

Mike falls asleep at the drop of a hat after eating dinner. After his hot dogs, he stretched out on the couch and within minutes, he was snoring. At one point, I had to wake him up to let him know he was snoring. Bill was calling from on the road and could hear Mike in the background.

Marcus just walked by, moody as ever, looking at his phone, baseball cap pointing up from his forehead.

He has not been pleasant to be around, so I will do my best to keep my distance. He is eating his Chik a Fil just a few feet away from. Marcus knows of the boycott and does not care which is fine, it is his prerogative.

The day is now halfway done. I plan on eating ruit this afternoon. I am looking at a banana and an orange. Banana is first, orange will be later, I’ve done this menu plan previously and it is just enough to get me home. Mike is at my apartment and will return to his crib this evening to make it hospitable for his beloved Wade.

A lovely springtime lunch I’m walking around the Chelsea flat iron area. On my walk I thought I saw my former Algerian supervisor Lurlene Lumbago. I admit I did something rotten 7 years ago after they let me go and even confessed to it on Fesshole on what used to be Twitter.

It was such an underhanded thing that they were taking a back and would not post it where other people post various things that are not good or potentially embarrassing. This was beyond the pale. And I did it knowing that she had so much karmic that attached and I added to it which increased my karmic debt. Not very smart, not very kind, and I look back with regret.