I like to keep things going nicely, quietly, and frictionless. Though the music I like often has a little grit in it. Things are usually calm at the fruit stand. So calm that when a pebble is thrown into the pond, it tends to have tsunami effects.

At least in my mind, I tried helping out a coworker earlier, even though the lines are clearly drawn as to what my job is and what my responsibilities are. I had a minute available and thought I would pitch in, roll up my sleeves, and help a young woman doing her job, which is basically the same job I had when working with the Algerians (not from Algeria) years ago.

Stocking shelves, putting items in the fridge, and throwing out expired goods. In so doing, feet might have been stepped on, feelings may have been hurt. I backtracked a few times and explained my lack of malice. That is the problem dealing with people born in or close to the 21st century. Barry McGarry was rife with those kids, an infestation if you will. Here it’s more of the same, but there is a creative air about them, so things can be easily excused, I reckon.

The thermometer is pushing 70 degrees, which is nice, but allergies are coming forth as well, and I swear, I blew most of my body weight in mucus over the past 24 hours. The allergies seem to get worse every year. And here we are in the first half of March, and my nose is raw from soft tissue friction. I took Bill’s advice and had some Nyquil, which dried out my sinuses but also had me going to the bathroom way too often. Apparently, Bill had the same dilemma last night, though thankfully, we were not on the same urinary cycle.

Friction. Occasionally bumping heads with Yancey. I am trying to come across as competent, but the main thing Ithink is to prove I am not an alcoholic, which is easy enough. Last week Kimberky completed some templates for our team to use when needed. I applied them as I worked, but this morning, Yancey told me they were the old templates, and I remarked that these were what I was given.

I tried to fix things myself and made a bit of a mess of it. I returned to the bit of a mess a few times and, after a few hours, was able to get it together and actually figure it out. I asked for Jimmy Chile’s help, but I did not need it after all when I took a chance and clicked here and double-clicked there to find I had fixed whatever it was that I had done.

I’m lactose intolerant. I have been for years but only recognized it a year or so ago. I remember one stupid job I had about 6 years ago at Jaded Toes. I had half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and about an hour later, bells were ringing in my bowels and thankfully, I was able to make it to a toilet without any problems. It could have been a lot worse.

I called this post Geordie Gillespie since he was in Konk, and that is who or what I am listening to at this moment, 3.10.2026. Tuesday.

My head full of mucus. It is like a domino effect. I want to talk to Bill, and he’s unavailable. I try to help 2 21st century girls, and I am rebuffed. A website link that I use for work no longer works for me, though it works for other fruit stand workers a few blocks away. A little over an hour to go before I head home, and it seems so far away. I hope I sleep better tonight than I did last night.

Back at work on March 8, 2026, and you know it ain’t so bad. I had a distressing dream last night concerning work. I was at a version of the fruit stand with the logo surrounded by red lighting. Yancy and Kimberly were talking to me, but I could never hear just what it was that they were saying.

Each time I would ask them to repeat themselves, some type of noise would drown out what was being said. I knew better to ask them to repeat themselves too often, and so I muddled about. I was supposed to sit in this new area, but I had no idea what to do. There were notes lying around, but I don’t think they pertained to me.

I was told a few times to find that woman a hotel. For some reason, I thought they were talking about Patti Smith, but I am not too sure about that. In the dream, I was walking around areas that seemed somewhat familiar, but on closer inspection, some key ingredients were missing. Like sugar. I needed sugar for my coffee, but could not find any, which was just as well since I could not find any coffee either.

The dream seemed to last a long time, and I could not awaken from it, and it was stressful. On top of that, daylight savings came and robbed me of an hour’s sleep. I forgot that I was going to be dark when I woke up in the morning, and it certainly was today. That threw me off, and I kept thinking to myself, I am up too early and should be going back to sleep. The confusion was also from the fruit stand dream as well.

Mike was over this weekend, and it was good. Bill was bussing snowboarders up to Vermont from Long Island, and Mike stepped in to babysit me. Mike came in handy, and Bill seems to have done all right for himself. I spoke with my dear old friend Jane. She was someone who always believed in me, even when I did not believe in myself, which was often.

My first show was playing two songs at Tin Pan Alley in Times Square with Jane. We rehearsed a few times and had 2 shows on a Saturday and Sunday way back when. Jim Mastro and the other Bongo were in the front row watching me as my caffeinated fingers played fast barre chords.

My then-roommate Jimmy Lee also played a few songs with Jane. Jimmy saw how anxious I was and reminded me that no one else could do what I do, and I should just relax and have fun. I heard the words, but I was not able to relax. In fact, I think I had an out-of-body experience.

IT’s a Monday in March, and the temperature is going up to 60 degrees. A woman sitting next to me on the PATH train gave up her seat for a man with a cane. I did not notice the cane until she got up and he sat down. I thought about giving up my seat for the woman who gave up hers, but I instead closed my eyes and tried to remember Kimberly’s name.