Somehow, I found myself online talking to some guy with dreads who referred to me as a vanilla creamy cupcake, which I thought was flattering, and I’m sure he intended it to be so.

It was a good weekend. Out of the ordinary. Mike came over on Friday night, and that was fun. Saturday was the day of the family reunion in Bordentown. I went to bed according to my sleep schedule, leaving Mile awake to make his videos and take his pictures.

I tried to write while at work, though the atmosphere was dubious, and I did not make it past the first 2 paragraphs. Not a big deal as I am now at home typing in front of my computer for tonight’s entry in this here blog.

The dubious atmosphere was because the one formerly known as Lex Luthor seems to have been cut free from the fruit stand. He’s had his kidney problems, and those problems were not likely helped by his drinking problem, which seemed to be under control until last week or so. He did have a seizure last month and was taken away in an ambulance, and yet no one knew anything about the drinking problem.

He had words with Janice and served food to Kimberly that had shards of glass in it. He was oblivious to his situation, sending out a text message to some of us that had a shared direct message asking about whether or not he was able to return to work with a doctor’s note. It seems most unlikely, though weirder things have been known to happen. Still, I don’t know whether or not the fruit stand would open its arms to him once more.

I will be working at his desk tomorrow, next to Janice and Kimberly. I expect to be finding out more about what happened and what will happen. I do know big names are expected at my usual fruit stand, and I will be at the big fruit stand. I asked on Friday before I left for the weekend if I could make it back to my lil’ ol fruit stand, and I could almost hear Yancey’s eyes roll back in his head as he reluctantly approved it, but it’s not 100%.

I suppose I will find out tomorrow whether or not that will actually happen. It would be nice to meet Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. And the office rumor floating around was that Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis would have a special guest with them. Which would be really cool, and I know if Mike were around, he would more than likely spurt as he adores this special person.

Mike has been sending me links to various people walking on the beach, insisting that Jeffrey Epstein was still alive and the body that was found was the brother of Hillary Clinton, Tony Rodham. I don’t know. I don’t claim to know. I wish there were someone I knew and trusted who could look at these files and let me know what they think, but everyone is too busy to do such a deep dive.

I’ll shine when it shines…Darrell Shines
I met Darrell Shines in the mid 1990s. I was working at Right Track Recording, and Darrell was working for a cartage company, Rock-It Cargo. Darrell was incredibly handsome, with a beautiful smile and charming as all get out. I was instantly smitten. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and Darrell would have been fun to play with, but he was as straight as Six o’clock. We were fast friends. We met up for various shows at Summerstage, just hanging out in Central Park. We’d smoke weed and generally have a good time.

Darrell seemed to like hanging out with me as much as I liked hanging out with him. I’d go out to his crib in Jamaica, Queens. It was the last stop on the subway, and after a few hours of smoking joints, I’d crash on his couch. Eventually, Darrell was evicted from his loft in Jamaica, and he asked or I offered my couch. We were friends, and that was that. He was handsome but straight. Just another sexy, handsome straight guy that I was smitten with. Julio, Pedro, and now Darrell.

I figured he’d be on the couch for a week. William didn’t mind. Landlord’s children, Pattie & Fred, more than likely hated the idea. Darrell was black, and Pattie and Fred most definitely were not. And one week turned into two, looking at three. I’d leave for work in the morning, and Darrell would be on the couch all day. Not much looking for a new crib. I mentioned my dilemma with my landlord, and Darrell suggested ignoring them. Should I take rental advice from some guy who was just evicted from his loft for non-payment of rent?

I had to ask Darrell to leave. It was not pleasant. During his time on Jane Street, he met Layla, a young woman who lived in the neighborhood. They might have had a fling. A quick fling that ended with Darrell’s departure from Jane Street. He made it seem like his idea. He told me he had gotten Layla pregnant, and she was going to have an abortion, so he was going to leave town. I soon found out that Darrell had told Layla he was leaving since I had tried to rape him.

I explained to Layla that that was just not my style. In fact, it would be an entirely different scenario if you catch my drift. I told Layla what Darrell had told me about her impending abortion. Laya was aghast, telling me she loved children and would never have an abortion. We both deduced that Darrell played us both and skipped town.

But not before he was able to get Julio, through me, to use his space in his apartment building for storage. And he used Julio and his space for a few months before Julio was going to move out and needed to have Darrell move his stuff out. Once again, Darrell needed to hit the road with his cargo.

We still hung out a few times, once particular spot was a bar on the Lower East Side called bOb. Julio and I found it, and I soon Pedro onto it as well. One night, Darrel was there with Pedro and a mutual friend, Ray. Things were cozy until Pedro’s side piece showed up, which ruffled his feathers.
Words were said, Darrell tried to separate Pedro and the side piece, which made Pedro say something untoward, and he and Ray left. Darrell sat yelling about something that Pedro pulled a gun on him. I didn’t see that, and I’m not sure anyone else did, since no one else was saying anything about a gun.

Since I had known Pedro longer than I had known Darrell, I caught up on the street with Pedro and Ray and got a ride to the bus terminal. The next day, I asked Pedro if what Darrell had said was true. Pedro denied doing such a thing and was insulted by the suggestion. I believed him, though it was years later when it seemed there were times when he was in a pharmaceutical fog. So it may have been true.

I did look up Darrell on social medias and he was living in Europe, had two kids, I think. He’s popular in cultural activities with lots of friends.

Some are born every minute.

“If you don’t pull up, you cheated”, says the guy screaming down Sixth Avenue