I need to remember to not listen to the first voice in my head when I wake up in the morning. This morning after a restless night, I emailed when I woke up that I was not feeling well. I sent it to Yancy and the counselor that set me up at the fruit stand.

Yancy was thankful and hoped that I would feel better. The counselor is on the west coast and was still asleep. Then I remembered I was participating in an LGBT panel for the agency this afternoon and had been preparing for it for a few weeks. I did not want to let them down.

I emailed that I would make it in after all, and Yancy advised against it. But my mind was made up, and I could not go back to sleep. I tried, I tossed, I turned but it was not going to happen so I made it to work 2 hours later than usual.

I showered and puttered about the apartment, Mike was sleeping. I effectively killed time between 8AM and 9AM. I walked up to Washington Street noticing more people out and about 2 hours that I usually see. The bagels were cooled so when I got mine, it was not a pile of greasy butter and dough which is what the bagels generally are when I get to my desk.

It is as quiet as I expected at the fruit stand. Whatever was going to happen happened yesterday. LGBT showtime is about an hour from now. Me and two other guys are talking heads regarding the March on Washington in April 1993. I’m sure it will go well. I am good at these things. Quick witted and off the cuff.

James Brown, 20 All Time Greatest Hits is playing. I admit I knew little about James Brown growing up. Perhaps it was really a case of ‘too black, too strong’. In the early 1980’s I bought a greatest hits compilation and that was more than likely my introduction. He wasn’t as sampled as he later became, and sampling hadn’t really occurred in 1982.

I did dub a cassette for my brother Frank. I missed James Brown at Skyline Studios in the 1990s by a few months. James Biondolillo told me all about the excitement of meeting the hardest working man in show business. As usual, I was late for the party. Time is crawling today. From food poisoning to mental health by way of Pepto Bismol I went to extraordinary lengths to show that I am a team player.

Also I did not want to take away any time from my personal time off routine. I reckon 2 hours might be better than 8 hours. Perhaps I was right. I don’t think I’ll know anything until the west coast wakes up and gets activated. Until then, here I am listening to James Brown’s Greatest HIts and watching the clock. After all it is a Thursday.

I’m on the street outside the fruit stand. I just participated in the LGBT panel discussion regarding the March on Washington on April 25th 1993. I was engaging, honest, open, and much to my surprise a little bit emotional.

Mainly about including people of color in the LGBT diaspora and how sometimes they are left out and it’s up to us to be more inclusive. How we have to keep fighting day by day sometimes hour by hour against people that would rather us not being around.

I think my emotions startled some people and it was a crowd of people from around the world so who knows where that will go if it goes anywhere? I am glad I have done it and will do it again if need be.

It’s a Wednesday, the second day of my second year at the fruit stand. It is also Earth Day. Last year fruit stand employees were given green t-shirts for Earth Day, this year, we aren’t getting anything it seems. I am fine with that.

Yancy just left. It was nerve-wracking as usual but most of that is built up in my head. Yancy sits on the couch doing things on his laptop. I sit at my desk, a few yards away from Yancy being busy or at least, looking busy. The two of us did have a chat and I did use the word ‘pass’ instead of ‘badge’ which threw him in a slight tizzy.

I backtracked and corrected myself after being badgered about badges and found that he does not take eye contact very well. It seemed to throw him off somewhat. I stuck with that; his unease was somewhat empowering. He’s not a bad boss as far as I can tell, but I do try to keep interactions to a minimum. And some bosses are not so bad at first (Bobby Risotto), then the abused becomes the abuser (Bob Isacco).

For some reason, I did trust him, but now it has been years since there was any connection and that was minimal due to the pandemic. Even Samantha Winter’s death could not restore any trust for him, Bathhouse Bobby. My initial encounter with Bob Isacco was 24 years ago and his power trip, now rendered impotent.

Bob did look out for me, then it all went pear-shaped. His boss, Harold would harass him and since shit rolls downhill, Bob would take his frustration and abuse me or the work that I had done. It was funny in an odd way, when Bob was leaving the Algerians behind, there was a going away dinner and I refused to go.

He was put off by this and asked me to attend. I told him I couldn’t. He had treated me so badly and it would seem hypocritical for me to attend. The dinner went on without me though my image was photoshopped in a photo taken afterward. It was tacky.

Yancy and Robert. Who else? Rafe Dais, but was he my boss? He was the guy who hired me, and I did have a modicum of respect for him. His kid, though, certainly fucked things up, and I knew I could not get between a father and his princess daughter. Shahabudeen Khan was closer by location than Rafe Dais, and he ate lots of beans and farted mere feet away from my desk while watching cricket matches on his computer. FOr some reason, he thought he was my ‘better’.

Alchemy. Richard Lloyd. Dispensary on West 18th Street. Each time I walk past the dispensary, Richard Lloyd’s song plays in my head. Brings me back to WPIX back in the day. I bought the record, and it was actually the first time I had seen Jim Mastro on an album cover.