I’ve only known one woman named April, and that was April Hartford, the sister of Laura Hartford who was mainly known as Arrot. April was a sweetheart, though I had only known her a few hours, I reckon, and that was 40 years ago.

I know it’s a story I had told before. Jet Watley gave me tickets to Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus at Madison Square Garden. Jet wasn’t going, and my friends Mike Weinert and Arrot were heading to Manhattan to pick up April at Penn Station, which is located right below Madison Square Garden.

The plan was for the four of us to attend the circus. April made two friends on the train from New England, two freunds from Germany. She wasn’t into the circus and so we gave the tickets to some kids who really wanted to go. They offered some money but we just gave them the tickets to their surprise.

We caught the Path train back to Hoboken, and of course, we wound up at Maxwell’s. We fell into our routines and overlapping groups of friends. April proved to be quite popular, much to Arrot’s surprise. She looked radiant, and men were swarming around her.

Arrot was distressed, though, since April was only 14 years old, though she did look sophisticated and passed for being a few years older. The powers that be never found out and we quickly moved to Mike and Arrot’s basement apartment, where, after smoking some opium, we wound up asleep with limbs entwined.

One of the freunds fell asleep with his head in my lap. Nothing came of it, neither literally nor figuratively.

Now I am home. Bill is eating pasta and pesto three feet behind me. Mike just called, waking up from a nap. He implored me to help him with his phone bill, and luckily for him, I was able to since it was not that much. I almost wrote that he begged, but Mike didn’t. He asked, sounding reluctant, while I was at work and I told him I’d take care of it when I got home.

I got home a little after 6 PM, which is when his phone service was cut off. Six minutes later, it was restored. And an hour after that, he woke up from his nap and groggily called. Too sleepy for anything resembling a meaningful conversation, I told Mike to call me when he wakes up.

Bill is going to sleep soon. Local driving tomorrow but still requiring an early start. Harry Potter is on. It’s been on quite a bit these days. 25th anniversary. I don’t mind, I’ve seen them a few times already. It’s like comfort food. Familiar enough.

I saw the first one, and it was the only one I saw in a theater. I went in 2001 with Annemarie, Rex, and Earl when I flew out to Arcata in a moment of bravado, since everyone else was reported to not fly that often after the 9/11 attacks.

April 30.2026

Subtle rebuttals. That was a line from the New York Times this morning about King Charles replying to L’Orange Merde. It is now Wednesday, the last Wednesday of April 2026. I am sitting at the major fruit stand, leaving my modest fruit stand alone, left to fend for itself. I know it can, it should be no problem Yancy floats around, Janis is to my right, Kimberly a few floors above my head. There is a new fruit stand attendee today, Violeta is the name we bless her with this morning.

Bill returned last night. Some mental adjustments must be made. Mike was outstanding the past week or so, and I found myself missing him and our interactions. He really stepped up and made everything go smoothly. A few good talks were had, embraces and cuddles were sought after and attained. Things have progressed since last year where sometimes were greatly unpleasant. The Gemini effect where Mike was fine with Bill, but with myself Mike was filled with animus.

For some reason, I was drawn to something from 47 years ago. Three people I went to school with died in a car crash after attending the Prom in 1979. I didn’t really know them. The driver and 2 girls were killed, a fourth passenger lived. This was before the time of mandatory seatbelts and the fourth passenger may have been sitting behind the driver. I remember Henry Venegas was going with his girl, Lisa. I left them that evening at the Texaco station with darkening skies above and my remarking that I was not going to Prom since I had seen the movie Carrie and knew how it ended. No shading.

I find myself looking back at those four years at Paramus Cathoolic and astounded by how little I learned. Somehow I muddled through and had to go to summer school just once and that was for history since the history teacher figured out that when Jim Carley, John Nesselt or myself would yell ‘Hey Abbott’, chubby Mr. Ward knew that we were mocking him like he was Lou Costello from the Abbott and Costello cartoons. Fuck Mr Ward and his chubby fat ass.

Mike just called. The inflatable mattress (3rd or 4th) has sprung a leak. Mike was over for almost a week and a half, and the inflatable mattress was untouched. The moment Mike returns, it springs a leak. And Mike’s finances are somewhat messy right now, so he’s trying to figure something out, and I am playing the role of shoulder to lean on.

Looking at a fruit stand directory and finding many young women are named Tiffany. I am listening to Vitesse X, a young woman not named Tiffany that works at the fruit stand. Ethereal, would’ve fit in nicely on 4AD if she was around 40 years ago. Such is life. The record is very good. Her name is actually Jordan Stern and she is incredibly talented.

I first talked to her about seeing Paul McCartney live. She’d seen him before, probably more than the 2 times I had.