St. Patrick’s Day, 2026. A Tuesday. Not a bad day, but of course, there is a chill in the air. The Irish rarely have good weather for their parade. Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and almost everyone else have good weather. The Irish? Not so much. It’s been a slow morning so far. I’ve been here for 2 very long hours, leaving me with 6 long hours.

Bill returns for a few hours today, according to Bill’s plan. He drops some kids off at the exchange place in Jersey City, parks his bus somewhere for a ride share back to Hoboken for a nap of a few hours. Mike was supposed to be there but I just arranged for a ride share for Mike to head back to his crib.

I keep checking fruit stand requests that should come in, but aren’t at the moment. Bill is parking his car in Jersey City. His charges, his people are ferrying it over to Manhattan, and since he does not have to be anywhere until this evening, he’s going to nap at our apartment. Mike felt Bill would have wanted his time alone so that is why Mike left. Quite noble I would say.

Bill is still in Jersey City so I really can’t say whether or not his plan will come off.

So it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Growing up Irish Catholic, it was a big deal in our house. And going to Catholic school also meant the wearing of the green for the holiday. It was expected of us. There was a green tie that was handed down from Frank to Brian to Me. My mother made corned beef and cabbage but I can’t say I have ever had any. It’s not like my mother would make something special for me, and Mom would always say, ‘I’m not running a diner’ so you ate what was in front of you. But I swear I do not recall having corned beef and cabbage ever.

In high school, I am thinking 1977 I was allowed to head into the city with a high school friend, Paul Hanely to watch the parade. It was cold of course and I was on the lookout for sex though it was not going to happen. After wqatching some the parade Paul and I wandered around midtown and after being sufficiently bored, headed back home on out buses. Paul lived in Hillsdale and I was in Lodi. I never saw him after sophomore year. Maybe freshman year. I did an online search and came up empty handed.

Another St Patick’s Day was with my brother Brian. Our mother allowed us to go to the city for the parade, Brian’s friends joined us. We made it to about 60th Street and Fifth Avenue by Central Park. I was watching kids charge the police inside the park and while that was going on I lost my brother and his friends could care less.

I knew I couldn’t depend on them and wound up walking from 60th and Fifth to 42nd and 8th. In the 1970’s Times Square. I didn’t know enough to be afraid. I made it to the gate for the bus where I found Brian, frightened by the fact my parents would have killed him if he came home without me. He was so relieved he smacked me for losing him and eventually finding him.

Had a dream that seemed to last a while. I was working in a hybrid of the fruit stand and other places I worked at. It was an urban building in a bucolic campus. I had done a good job on something and was being commended. I wandered around, the CEO who lookd like a Dan Chung type was talking to me while my shirt was rolled up past my belly.

My brother Frank was there talking to some of his former bandmates. I could make no wrong moves and no doors were locked to me. I instinctively walked behind the scenes talking to various people showing them where to go. I had a few items that I didn’t want to carry haphazardly so I found a FedEx box, which I placed on top of some eggs but the weight of the box broke the eggs.

Wheels were symbolic in this dream, and some people did not have enough wheels or they weren’t distributed properly. The facility where the dream took place had many doors, rooms and levels as well as elevators and stairwells. Terry Eigenlaub was in the dream and I have not seen her since 1992 or 93.

That was Friday into Saturday. Today is March 16, 2026. A very foggy day. I am at the fruit stand once more. Billie Holiday is so Easy to Love. With Bill on the road, Mike and I watched the Oscars. Or at least I did mostly. Mike watched his phone more than the TV and I watched the TV more than my computer. I admit my hypocrisy. I amd not judging anymore, just stating a fact.

In the afternoon at the cigar shop I bought a 1000 mg gummy. The night before in the store I asked and was advised not to do an entire gummy. I kept that in mind and had half. AN hour later I did not notice anything heavy and so I had the other half. Over 12 hours later I am still feeling it.

Extreme dehydration throughout the night. It is more of a psychoactive drug. I was fatigued but my mind was somewhat alert. I told RoDa about the experience and cautioned him, despite the fact that he really wants to do it. I would not, that’s for sure.

Mike might’ve noticed a change in my behavior last night though nothing bad happened.

Professor Longhair is singing Tipitina from the Atlantic Records Box Set from a long time ago. I know I heard it before, but never like the way I heard it today. Going into my third hour at the fruit stand. My state of mind and the foggy day outside slow most everything to a crawl.

I’ve brought my pasta and pesto and chicken leftovers in today. I hope it is better than it was yesterday. Sometimes time makes things better so we shall see.

The pesto pasta and chicken was better today than it was last night. The fog has lifted somewhat, both outside and inside my head. I received a package from Chaz down in Texas. A handwritten note as well as various clipping from various newspapers down there. I was inspired and so I dashed off a quick note in return, about 600 words. Found an envelope, stamped it and will drop it off at the Hoboken post office.