Me and Yancy. Yancy and me. For the first half of the day at least. It wasn’t comfortable, but I somehow got through it. Now he’s in a class on picking fruit somewhere in the hive, and I am with Kimberly. She’s a darling 26-year-old—just a breath of fresh air. I also met her boyfriend at the Holiday party a few months ago and he was the other half of a beautiful young couple.

Things have been proceeding slowly, quietly today, especially when compared to yesterday. I mainly worked with Janis yesterday. She filled me in on the alcoholic shenanigans that Lex Luthor was getting himself into. It wasn’t pretty, especially hearing of the seizure he had in Penn Station. Jimmy Chile did tell me of the barf bag Lex was carrying one night, a few weeks ago, when a group of coworkers went out for drinks after work.

Kimberly is just a love, though. So sweet and endearing, and I am as old as her father. She mentioned that her father and I had a similar sense of humor. I joked that her father and I could do a tour as Salt and Pepper.

Mike and his boyfriend had been planning on going on a cruise in May, but Mike’s new parole officer put the kibosh on that. Mike is disappointed, but he was told he could go anywhere in the Continental United States, so Las Vegas is the next plan, though the parole officer can flex her muscles at any time.

Mike has a little over a year on his parole, so he has to play it cool because the alternative is going back, and nobody wants that to happen, especially Mike. Bill and I don’t want that either, and we’re certain that the boyfriend doesn’t want it.

The day at the major fruit stand has been better than I anticipated. I’ve just made friends with a bloke named Hongki Min. For real. Nice guy. I think he is Korean, but he worked in Singapore, and I really don’t know, and it might be rude to ask. I remember an old friend, Hiroaki Kimura, had words with an Asian bicycle shop owner who did not believe that Hiroaki was Japanese.

I saw an adorable photo of Ysmael Villanueva and Daniel Chieffo on the street. Daniel looks pregnant, perhaps having a Filipino baby with Ysmael. I hope that if baby makes three, the three is safe and sound and loved.

Trains have been crazy crowded; tonight, it was sardine city. It wasn’t so bad. I was at the big fruit stand, and that is the end of the line or the start of the line, depending on which direction you’re travelling. This morning was bearable since I had a seat. This evening, not so much, but not so bad. I am not complaining.

Bill is heading home from Poughkeepsie, and Mike is in Harlem. I am chill in my crib.

Heart of the Country by Paul McCartney, which led into Keith Hudson’s Pick A Dub . There is usually a songplaying in my head, and if it is a dub song, it makes for an interesting stroll down the street. Tonight was Keith Hudson, Pick a Dub. It took a few minutes to know which dub song it was, but I sussed it out.

Scritti Politti White Bread Black Beer
Roches Keep on Doing
Beatles Abbey Road
Morrissey Bona Drag

I heard from my dear friend Jane after leaving messages for her over the years. Unfortunately, I was at the main fruit stand, so a proper conversation was not to be had. We scheduled a phone call for Saturday afternoon at 2 pm.

Jane has been a lifesaver for me. 24 years ago, when I was making the leap into the corporate world, Robert Isacco had set forth a test to screen applicants at Wanker Banker or Putnam Lovell NBF. I did well on most of the test except for arithmetic. I choked. I think Jane called at that moment and was able to do these fractions over the phone, which gave me access to a good-paying job.

I am, as I said earlier, at the main fruit stand. Not as laid back as my usual fruit stand. I had hoped to be able to go to my desk and meet two legendary producers, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, but instead withdrew my request for the good of the team.

It seems I have prickly heat on my chest. My chest has been itchy lately, and looking up online using some bat shit artificial intelligence, it was determined that my sweat glands are clogged. Well, that’s what it said, and it is what I choose to believe.

Cocteau Twins – Treasure

Who knows what goes on in this head of mine? I received an email regarding a new employee in this fruit stand, and his last name brought to my mind a book and a movie called ‘Christ Stopped at Eboli’. I’ve never read the book nor seen the movie, and yet it resides in my head.

They are still recovering from Lex Luthor’s exile. He is not to return, so bad was his exit. People wanted to help, but Lex could not admit he had a problem, and the first step to solving a problem is to admit that you have a problem. I did think that working with him would be good, but now I know better.

White Bread Black Beer by Scritti Politti. Reminds me of Juan. 2006, when we started hanging out a lot. Road to No Regret brings me to the Spa Diner, a greasy spoon where Juan and I had breakfast the day after the Wolff Olins holiday party. Juan brought me home in his car, and he slept on the couch.

Keep on Doing by the Roches. This reminds me of Jet Watley. He bought his copy ay Disc-O-Mat in Grand Central during lunchtime. I was precocious then. I am always amazed at the different kinds of people who enjoy the Roches. They were popular at Farfetched which shouldn’t be surprising.

Abbey Road by the Beatles reminds me of my brother Frank. He gave it to me on July 5, 1976, after backing out of taking me to a Bicentennial party. It was my first Beatles album and their last recorded. A lot of people say it is their favorite, though mine would be Revolver.

Bona Drag by Morrissey. It’s a collection of Morrissey’s first singles, and it reminds me of Gus McKenzie, an old boyfriend from 46 years ago. There are quite a few great songs on it, before anyone had an idea what lurked in that heart of his.

Treasure by Cocteau Twins—another Jet Watley memory. Jet was infatuated with the Cocteaus and a lot of releases on the 4AD label. I eventually got into them as well and have been playing them lately. Really good stuff.