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.

Perhaps the trick is not to look at it too closely. Sure, you can acknowledge it, but to dwell on it too much can take its toll. That is how I feel about it at 10:27 AM on Friday, the 13th of March, 2026. It can all change at any time, of course. I am at the fruit stand listening to a co-worker’s tracks, she goes by the name Vitesse X, and it’s dream pop-ish with a drum and bass jungle frantically going on. It is a thing to behold with one’s own ears.

The fruit stand is quiet this morning. Some people, like Jimmy Chile, have been in since 4:30 AM, which is a godforsaken time for anything that does not involve sleep, though a long time ago that would be the time in the middle of a party. But that was the 20th century, and I do not do those things anymore.

Bill is home. Getting ready for another road trip, and Mike will be babysitting me once again. It seems that this plan works nicely for all concerned. My allergies have cleared up as the temperatures have dropped once more. My nose still has some abrasion from blowing my nose so often over the past few days.

The co-worker whose tracks I am playing is Jordan. She’s a 20-something young woman who seems to have got it together, though all I see is what she presents as she walks past my station at the fruit stand. It’s a long way from where things were 30 years ago at Skyline Studios and Right Track Recording.

I was thinking of Justin Luchter the other day. We got along fine. I found him to be a good guy. It’s been over 30 years since I’d last saw him. He was living with his Aunt Pauline in Brooklyn back then, and who knows where Justin might be these days? Maxwell’s soundman was between Ira Kaplan and Andy Peters, and I worked with all three. Justin got me the Skyline Studio gig, which didn’t last too long as Skyline was not in good shape financially and soon went under.

I tell the story, usually around the holidays, about having to hand out bonuses to coworkers at the studio, and me getting a 10% raise. I told them I would rather get a cash bonus instead of a 10% increase, but they insisted. Then, a few months later, since things were not going so well, everyone was having to take a 10% pay cut, which meant that where everyone else got a holiday bonus, I ultimately got nothing.

Still, it was a good experience overall. They had a reunion a few months ago, but I did not go. I do not like reunions unless they’re family reunions, and even then, I find myself dragging my feet. The last one in Bordentown was nice, and I remarked that it’s good to get together without a corpse in the room. Some people agreed, and some people thought it was a horrible thing to say.