Yes it’s my birthday and fucking hell has it been a trial. Of course, me being me, drama queen it’s not as bad as all that, or is it? Day started out nice, Bill stayed over so I’d wake up with him and he was giving me a kiss in bed at 6:00 this morning. I enjoyed that. Then Bill was out the door again. As I walked through the apartment, there were birthday cards, three of them each on a box of brownie mix. On top of the stove was a nicely wrapped box with a bow on it. I picked it up and it shook a bit. After the shower, and coffee I opened the box to find a sauce pan. Nice stainless steel sauce pan. Why a sauce pan? I don’t know.

Amazingly it was all I could focus on this morning. I instant messaged Bill when I got to work and he told me the sauce pan was for making brownies, since the last time the other day they came out terribly. From now on, I’ll be able to make brownies in a sauce pan. But I really can’t do that since the sauce pan is too shallow and what I really needed was a mixing bowl, and I really don’t need a mixing bowl. But a sauce pan is nice. Next time I make sauce, meaning next time I open a jar of tomato sauce I will have a pot to…..pour sauce in.

Carla the receptionist was happy because it was my birthday and so were other people who phoned me, Billie, Pedro, Harpy, and of course Annemarie. I even spoke to brother Frank but he didn’t bring up the birthday and neither did I. He has other more important things on his mind than my birthday. Got e-cards and greetings from brother Brian, little Brian, Chaz and William and plenty of good vibrations from Bill. But aspects of my father’s personality were edging around my mind. I realized that and decided to head out for lunch and have a cigar.

I planned to sit on Park Avenue, it was a beautiful day but all the good spots were crowded and I didn’t want to offend anyone with my cigar. I discreetly puffed walking down Park Avenue looking for a spot when about 20 feet behind me, some guy who reminded me of Fred Kleinke, (psycho nerd drip former landlord in Weehawken) shouting about ‘how the fuck could I smoke a cigar?’ Really shouting. People stopped and stared. He walks up to me on his way back to his mail room job and shouts about how his father used to smoke cigars and how it fucked him up. Then he turns and screams at me, “I hope you die a fucking painful death!”

Nice. Happy birthday indeed.

Got back to office and of course things were strange there. I knew Carla was passing around a birthday card for people to sign. I buried myself in my cube, dreading the thought of cake and having to force a smile when I was having difficulty with the world. 5:00 came soon enough, there was no cake. I was glad. Another year without birthday cake is fine with me. Have enough cookies and brownies from Annemarie that cake would be redundant. Carla did snag me at the door and had me follow her to Greg Stevens office where Greg and Tom Chin and Carla gave me a card and a few cigars. That was great. Everyone in the office signed the card and wished me well.

I walked Carla to her train and walked to the bus terminal where some jerk stepped on the back of my shoe. I turned and he gave me the ‘oops! Sorry!’ look, I returned with what was probably one of my father’s death stares. Got off the bus, ran into Roda who I invited over for some jazz before Bill and I headed to Arthur’s for dinner. Bill and I headed over after Roda and my jazz session. There were no outside tables but that was ok, I was hungry. We sat and waited for the waiter who showed up and told us that the credit card machine wasn’t working properly and he was telling us now before we ordered. I turned to Bill and suggested going home and ordering Grimaldi’s pizza and that is where we are now. I’m avoiding the world but if they want to call that’s ok, but I am screening calls.

Bill sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and here are some pics of them.

Thank you Bill and thank you everyone for being my friend.