Monday, May 19th, 2025. Where I spent the last 2 weeks working at 16th Street and 5th Avenue, today I’m back to where I started. I found out yesterday by going for a bicycle ride, and I initially regretted opening the text because I immediately went into my default way of thinking that “you’ve done something wrong”.

Once again, I prove to be my own worst enemy because that was not the case at all…the woman I work with Anise, is out this week and I am filling in for her on a very quiet floor.

Not bad at all though I do prefer the location I have been working at for the past few weeks. It does promise to be a quiet week since this weekend is a holiday weekend three days off which is nice.

I did a very good bike ride yesterday, did about 15 miles and change. We did wonders for my mind, body, and spirit. I should have done it Saturday, but we know how that turned out. I’d like to think it was a reset that was sorely needed. I’m trying to dictate into my phone, but it’s having difficulty connecting to Google, which could be because I am near an Apple facility or orchard, whichever it may be.

Reconnecting with Mike was good. Another step of evolution. I did a little browsing in a nearby store, and on the stores PA system was a dance remake of Neil Young’s harvest Moon which was pleasant.

I really don’t care for this part of town, even though I do have a history here. There are a few good looking men walking around so that’s good.

The April Shmartford story began here, and it’s a good one. One night, let’s say in 1986, Jet Watley gave me four tickets for the circus that was visiting Madison Square Garden. I had told my friends, Michael and Laura, and they were interested in it. Laura’s sister, April, was coming in on the train at Penn Station, which is where Madison Square Garden is.

We made it to the train station and found April. She wasn’t that interested in going to the circus as she had made friends with 2 German tourists on the train. Since no money was exchanged for the tickets, I handed them off to some kids who asked if we were selling tickets. The kids were taken back by the fact that they were getting free admission to a three-ring circus.

Michael, Laura, April and myself wound up at Maxwell’s soon after that with the German tourists in tow. We settled into our usual spots at the bar and had a few pints. Suddenly, Laura came up to me, frantic. She was worried about her sister, April, who had lit up the bar, with a few men angling for her attention.

She was radiant, and I didn’t see the problem until Laura mentioned that April was only 14 years old. That was alarming enough to get April and the Germans over to Michael and Laura’s apartment down the street.

We smoked opium that night, and one of the Germans, who was quite handsome, passed out with his head in my lap. I didn’t know if he was gay or merely European. He wasn’t gay.

It’s a beautiful Saturday and it was a wasted Saturday for me. There were tentative plans for Mike to come over. He initially suggested 10:30 AM and I thought that was too early. I was not sure if I was going to do a bike ride, the first of the year, but the forecast was saying it was going to rain, so I decided not to. I mentioned an afternoon visit would be good, and that seemed to be the plan.

But Mike can sometimes be a gauzy man on occasion, and today, despite the sun being out and beaming, shade was provided by the resident of 62 Jewett St. I don’t believe the story he told me this afternoon, a co-worker asked him for his help in moving at the last minute.

Mike has told me in the past how much he doesn’t like his co-workers. This particular co-worker was new, so a relative stranger asked him to help move her belongings, and he did just that. Someone like me, who isn’t a relative stranger, was left twisting in the wind. And it was annoying before he told me his tale, and when I did hear the tale I was pissed off.

According to the opaque handyman, it was so last minute he was unable to find the time to call or text, so the day’s plan was not going to happen. He did find the time to respond to a photo I sent to him on social media. That was around 11:30. Mike didn’t call until hours later, saying he didn’t have the time to tell me, though 11:30 was time enough to respond to my photo of Johnny Rockets.

I am astounded at how Mike has taken such a place in my life. Perhaps he is filling the void that Juan left when he departed his mortal coil. He’s no Juan, though, just as Juan is no Mike Handy.

We just had a phone call. A couple of phone calls actually. He hung up angrily when I told him to figure out what I had just brought up, how he doesn’t even meet me halfway when things are done for him. I was content to let it go but me being me, called him and got his voice mail. I called again and left a voice mail. Then called one more time and he actually picked up.

I told him how I am not even myself sometimes when he’s over. He doesn’t like to be around weed when it’s being smoked, and I do love to smoke weed. So to avoid Mike being uncomfortable, I actually go into the kitchen to smoke a bowl while he sits on the couch looking at his phone while the TV show or movie that he requested plays on the screen in the TV room.

Occasionally, when we’ve had words, he’s annoyed by the fact that I am passionate, or as Mike calls it, being emotional. I don’t think that it’s a bad thing being emotional but there may be a bravado that Mike has and when he sees that bravado in other men like Mike, he doesn’t like it. It seems Mike’s emotions are buried and mine float to the surface quite easily. And when they do Mike doesn’t like it or know how to deal with it. So the past few times I’ve been distant rather than engaging which will bring up emotions. Distance keeps the emotions at bay.

Mike has been through a lot, and I understand that. We’re both high school graduates, and I didn’t have the obstacles that he has had in his life. There is also the unmentionable journey that he had experienced that I do not bring up. A major setback.

And there is also the fact that I have benefited from my pigmentation, whereas his pigmentation is a problem for some people in life, and those who have authority over the people with the same skin color…

I like to think that things have gotten better regarding the day’s events or lack thereof. Time will tell. He’s still welcome here, but who knows? He has his online followers, and here in Hoboken, he merely has two grown men who want the best for him. Will he meet me halfway?