It’s Friday. Nowhere to go. Chillaxin at home is the agenda tonight. Cocktail by my side, fag burning in ashtray, all I need is a fedora and color blindness and I think I would be able to be a character in a Raymond Carver, ummm errr Raymond Chandler story. Need a dame, a moll, something, someone. Who’s Raymond Carver?

Michael Chertoff is Skeletor. There I’ve said it. Off to a black site for me? I was looking the other day at an entry from when I first started at McMann and Tate, I wrote seeing somebody being escorted in handcuffs into 201 Varick Street. That’s the NY office for the Department of Homeland Security. I’m surprised I tied that all together since as usual I have no idea where it is I am headed.

Work was quiet. Finished my work early enough and wound up chatting with various bears and their admirers. A bear is described in the raunchy John Waters clip from a week or so ago. I’m not a bear according to Juan. Song I bet, would disagree. Let those big game hunters fight it out. Two handsome young men fighting over the definition of me. Not me, but my definition. I was thinking about walking by the Garden to check out the hot young men going to the reggaeton show, but I remembered that at home and I sure as hell ain’t heading back in, at least not tonight. These itty bitty Daddy Yankee wannabees will just have to wait. I like the guys, not the music. And that’s Pedro’s influence. On the music, not so much the guys.

One of the bears I chatted with is Blabbeando, a blogger from Queens. Don’t know if he’s a bear or a cub or an otter or merely an admirer. Regardless or illegal dress, he’s a nice intelligent guy and he’s surprised at how personal my blog is. I told him he should see what I don’t write, which doesn’t make sense since I haven’t written it, no one will ever see it. His blog is more political and personal. Funny thing is last night I watched something about how in the sixties, the political became personal. Sort of like getting one’s chocolate in someone’s peanut butter. No innuendo there, honestly.

Once again I took an hour for lunch and once again I had a cigar. The other day I spied a relatively handsome guy smoking a cigar on Park Avenue so I thought I’d set up camp and take some pics. He eyed me suspiciously, I surreptitiously took some snaps of him. And a sexy guy in a suit. Carla asked me if she could take off next Friday and the following Monday and Tuesday to see her family in North Carolina. I told her ok, just need to run it by Tom Chin. Her friend Millie would fill in for her. Fine by me. Millie would replace Carla should Carla leave for another job, which she feels isn’t going to happen and with my experience, would mean she’s going to leave.

Fantastic breeze coming through the open window. I’m enjoying it. Hope Annemarie, Rex and Earl have a splendid time in San Francisco.

That’s about it for this end. Feel free to comment. No really, feel free.

Remember, nothing says “I love you” like a tattoo on your neck.

Here’s some pics.

Handsome suited gent

Cigar smoking dude

where I used to work at Wanker Banker. 3rd floor from top. They’ve moved.

Lexington and 50th street

Penny for your thoughts. or comments.