At the desk once again, listening to old school reggae. It is one of my favorite genres of music. Julio and I bonded over it, the Rastas- Poncho, Jesse and Marcus listened to it frequently though I think Jesse preferred more recent music like dancehall which is not a favorite of mine. I was so head over heels in love with reggae, specifically old school reggae that a few mix tapes were made. Mick Hucknall from Simply Red created a record label in the UK called Blood & Fire which released quite a few deep cuts of dub versions from the 1970s, which I collected whenever I came across a release.

Bill is on his way home, travelling through Virginia at the moment. Mike was supposed to go back to his crib last night, but Bill requested he stay one more night so Mike could help Bill with his luggage from this past 3-week trip. Mike was fine with it, he said he would be honored to help. And when I get home, I guess I will arrange for a Lyft for Mike to go back to his crib.

Tomorrow, if the main fruit stand action so, a good night of sleep will be warranted beforehand. I slept really well though I do wake up intermittently to see what time it is. That does not make for an easy night of sleep though going back to sleep is not that difficult. I’ve been trying to go to bed around 10:30 PM and sometimes open an eye around 12:30 AM and realize I had not slept for many hours, only 2 or so. This happens every couple of hours, increasing when I get closer to the actual time for the alarm clock to go off.
This morning I woke up before the alarm clock because I did not see the point of sleeping for five more minutes when it would not be that relaxing to do so.

Listening to Cocteau Twins right now. Tomorrow, depending where I am sitting and with whom I am sitting, I will more than likely have no say in the music that is played. It’s all through the fruit stand app and the music that is chosen is current and I know very little about it. It does not bother me, it’s just endless and unknown. The music I listen to is like comfort food to me.

I used to have people like Juan in my life who would turn me on to new music, or music I hadn’t heard before. Now Mike is like that. He uses music in his videos, and I have to ask, who is playing? It’s usually more than likely an instrumental version, and I am fine with that. It is not the antagonism I used to feel when other people would suggest music to me.

It is my lunch hour and it is 1:21 p.m. . I am outside having a small cigar and been snacking all day so I think I will forgo lunch. I look at the corner of West 16th Street and 5th avenue and I am nearly 100% certain that that corner was where I had separated from my parents and my brother Brian in the 1970s, that summer day when my parents were looking at furniture at a showroom.

They continued walking as I stood on the corner and talked to someone I had never known before, could have been homeless, could have been crazy. Nothing bad happened except my parents being very upset that I would separated from them and they made sure that it was not going to happen again at least not that day

What is going on? What am I doing? It’s the last Monday in April, this 2026. I am back at my desk, four days this week, Wednesday at the big fruit stand. It’s making me nervous as it always does. When I am there I am fine, it’s getting there that is the problem. Stage fright. For me, it’s about getting to the stage, once I am on the stage, I am fine. It’s the roadblocks and obstacles that mess me up.

It was a very good weekend. Mike was there for his second weekend. It went so well, it felt like it was more than 2 days. At least, that is how I feel on today, Monday. Very comfortable, cuddly. No longer stressed by his phone addiction, especially when he pointed out my own computer addiction. I keep my mouth shut and so does he.

He is a character though. 11.6 thousand followers on Twitter X. Who knows how many lovers he has? He has his beloved who is scheduled for a weekend visit. This might be the weekend that I actually meet this bloke. Since Mike calls me ‘Dad’ and he also calls Bill ‘Dad’, his beloved calls me Dad and I, in turn, call him ‘son-in-law’.

I know Mike has a few side pieces, and he should, I guess. He’s handsome with a truckload of ‘admirers’. That is what he likes to call his followers. They’re not fans but admirers.

I find it hard to believe that 20 years ago I fell into the glue trap that was known as Wolff Olins. It might still be known as Wolff Olins, though I called it McMann and Tate, an homage to Darren Stephens company in Bewitched.

My time at Putnam Lovell NBF aka Wanker Banker was fast coming to a halt. In 2004 was flying high, in 2005 I was crashing and burning. They wanted me out, so much so they gave Christina Miro, my assistant a larger holiday bonus than I received. I bellyached, and some coworkers felt awful about it and took up a collection that I did not refuse.

Then John Griff, a not so éminence grise made sure no one discussed their bonuses after the fact. A little too late for that. I saw the writing on the wall and took a job in Soho above the SOB’s nightclub. I interviewed with an Airy Ann Sabotuna and she soon revealed herself to be a nightmare. I lasted until the end of the year before jumping ship to Legend Staffing which turned out to be a lackluster move at best.

Then the late Bill Carson found me and hired me to be the office manager for BIO-IB, which was soon to crash and burn due to Ashisht Singhrjaka’s decisions and making enemies and attracting lawsuits. The market crash in 2008 put an end to all that, and I was back on the street in 2009 winding up at the cigar shack, Davidoff in the Time Warner Mall at Columbus Circle.

And that too ended badly since Mickey Herkloz told Kelvin Thweat about the tales I had been telling out of the store. Changing names didn’t help matters since anyone who had a clue could easily decipher my not so obtuse renderings.

Credit to Herkz for figuring it out and honorable mention to Kevin Thweat, who emailed the missing Temple Brandin Graham about this here blog, only Kevin emailed me and not Temple Brandin Graham. Drunken emails are hardly ever a good idea, especially if you’re trying to give a heads up about someone about to lose their job and email the same person who’s about to lose their job.