A new day. Another day. Listening to the Paul McCartney singles collection, which is mostly fun. It is one of those days, though. I forget who said it, but April has days when, when you are in the sun, it feels like spring/summer, and in the shade it feels like winter. Well, there has not been much sun today, and everything is clammy & damp.

The usual hang-ups, laden with self doubt are in my path despite being at my usual fruit stand. Things that work at this fruit stand work fine but they do not apply or carry over to the main fruit stand where I had been the past two days. I just found this out when Janis had informed me. Next time I am there I will have to fully correct this.

It being April 2, a Thursday, means that tomorrow is Friday and will have a nice weekend. I do not think Mike will be visiting this weekend and Bill is working on a staged reading of a play that he had worked on last year. I am not attending sincew I would rather see Bill acting than providing stage directions to onstage readers and actors.

I ordered a book online, and it was delivered to the usual fruit stand. It is an ‘autobiography” of sorts of Neville Staple from the Specials. I always thought him sexy, and I guess on red-eyed night saw it on sale for a reasonable price and ordered it, having it sent to my fruit stand perch.

Then I forgot about it until getting the notification that it was delivered. I remember way back in the day, 46 years ago (?), where Neville attended a strip club in the Midwest and promptly got onstage and proceeded to strip down to his briefs. There was a photo I remember of Neville on his hands and knees being admired by various women.A nice package in those briefs. 46 years later I buy his story, such is my dusty lust.

Junior’s Farm is playing. I had this 45. My brother Frank was working for ABC Distributing in Fairfield, NJ, and would occasionally bestow gifts like a Paul McCartney & Wings single. Sometimes, a week or so before the official release. It did not know how special it was. Frank gifted me Elton John’s Captain Fantastic & the Brown Dirt Cowboy album a week or two before its official release, and I don’t think I played anything else that summer of 1975.

At one point that summer, my brother Brian and I got into a major fight, Captain Fantastic was playing on what we called a ‘Close & Play’ portable record player. Brain was furious about something I had said or done and shoved the table the record player was on, causing a deep gash on the vinyl, which Brian would have to replace soon after, adding more to his resentment of me.

The dismal weather adds slowly passing hours to the clock. 2 hours and 15 minutes to go which translates to 12 hours.

I left the fruit stand a few minutes earlier and as I descended the stairs to the PATH Train, my phone rang. It was Jimmy Chile so I answered. He asked if I had left and I told him I had. He mentioned the party. Janis had gotten a promotion last week and Kimberly helped arrange after work party. I spaced and Jimmy Chile shrugged it off over the phone.

I decided to do something that wasn’t in my usual way of doing things. I rode to the next stop and crossed the platform to an uptown train. Within a few minutes I was across the street from the main fruit stand. I felt obligated to go. Both KImberly and Janis trained me at the fruit stand and I could easily make an appearance.

There was a glitch since my fruit stand pass was not good enough, I needed the app which I had from a few months ago but could never download it fully. I mentioned I could just as easily gohome when I turned around and saw Kimberly and Janis approach. They wanted to know what was going on and I explained. Kimberly went to talk to the front desk personnel and I played with the app, which was actually fully loaded.

We were on an elevator to the top floor where a load saxophonost and guitarist were doing some songs by Outkast, quite loudly. I looked at the menu and thought about getting a pint of Guinness instead of the club soda which was my original idea. While waiting for a waitress to appear, I saw Bill was in the area.

Quite close according to the map. I called him thinking it could be my way out.. I really just wanted to go home and I did tell Janis how I appreciated her. I said Bill was outside and that I had to go. Bill was outside but not as near as the map said. I was soon back in the elevator and on the street. The PATH train was within a few steps and soon I was back home, before Bill.

Back at the fruit stand. Quieter today. Not complaining and here I am typing out various letters, words and sentences before the day. Yesterday this would have been unthinkable. Today it’s thinkable. Bill was running around Manhattan last night, came home in time to watch 2 episodes of Jeopardy. We are almost caught up. I went to bed before Bill did. He had paperwork and whatnot to do so I was in bed by 10:30. And 10:30 PM is the sweet spot for me to go to bed, though my mind and body start to stir around 6:00 AM, wondering if it is indeed time to wake up and start the day. Then my bladder speaks up and insists that it is time to get out of bed and to visit the other side of the apartment.

I just had a slightly hairy situation. A young man with an oceanic name came up to me at my solo desk. He was assigned a temporary badge for the fruit stand yesterday and as temporary things go, it expired in the middle of the night. I was in proximity when the young man was given a temporary badge but not fully present. And a renewal was warranted. I fished around and finally was able to connect with Kimberly who walked me through the details of fruit stand workers and their temporary badges. The young man with the oceanic name was patient as I tried to maintain some sense of professionalism. I called myself an OG. Not original gangster but rather ‘Old Guy’.

Bill is out in Queens working on a reading that is going on this Sunday. He is stage managing the reading. Mike is going crazy with AI programs. He made a lovely image of David Bowie and me based on this morning’s attendance at the major fruit stand. He made an AI image of the Beatles and me, but I was smaller than the four of them, and it was various years/ages of the Fabs, not that Mike would notice.

Though I have been trying to eat better and perhaps lose some weight, the weight is more than likely here to stay. The weather is getting better, and I might just go for a bike ride this week, if not soon. I don’t know what to expect for this weekend, and I am hoping for the best. They are culling the deer population at Liberty State Park so it might not even be accessible.

I am sitting at where Lex Luthor used to sit. He’s officially a thing of the past. I accidentally let the cat out of the bag when I asked about Lex’s well-being when talking to our mutual counselor. She said he was fine, and I mentioned that I hope he gets help with a 12-step program or something like that. It was the first time the counselor had heard of it since modern-day companies do not say anything untoward about former employees.

This is why I would not make it as an employment counselor or a guidance counselor. I can keep a secret if asked, but if no one asks me not to spill the beans, beans will be spilt.

Listening to ‘If I Was Your Girlfriend’ by Prince and remembering Maurice Menares lip syncing and dancing in front of the Maxwells’ jukebox. Sweet times, so long ago. Last I saw, Maurice was in Tribeca near where I worked. It had been ages since I had seen him and then saw him a few times over the course of a few months. Now I am no longer in Tribeca and I could not tell you whether or not he is. No beans here.