From today’s notebook.
Hot Monday in October. I sit in 80 plus degrees of mugginess, in the shade across from the building where I work. It’s Columbus Day and a lot of people have off, but not me. Plenty of people still have to work but I would say the amount has been halved. Feeling a touch melancholy since Carla is leaving in a few days. The city, or at least the workers are few and far between. I could use a day off.

I could also use some cooler weather so I could go back to wearing a suit and tie which would make dressing in the morning a little bit easier and if it were cooler I wouldn’t be sweating as much as I do.

I bought Gold Bond Medicated powder and applied it liberally after showering this morning. Then I sat bare chested drinking my coffee and eating cereal. I was wearing pants and sweating and after I put on a shirt and headed out the door I checked myself only to find the sweat and the powder mixed, making a paste that was directly on my crotch. A nice smelling white powdery spot right where everyone would notice. Quick change of pants, but the pants were shortish, not too short, just enough to pass for regulation on how high your pants should be and enough to make me very self conscious throughout the day.

I asked Bill if his cousin Elise was working since she’d been unemployed for a while and I was thinking that maybe she would do reception and replace Carla as my assistant on a temporary basis, but it turned out she is working for the Daily News.

I’m presently reading the Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie which is good and I find myself writing like Sherman Alexie which you really can’t tell from this but you should see the notebook. Also reading the New Yorker naturally, as well as Grand Illusion by Wayne Barrett and Dan Collins. Thats about Rudy Guiliani and the mess of 9/11 and how Rudy has been capitalizing on it and his failures that are overlooked in the midst of the platitudes raining upon der fuhrer.

Thinking about playing touch football on Gunther Avenue with Scott Williams, David Plauchino and George Moncho back in the day. Tuesday Afternoon by the Moody Blues floats through my head.

After work tonight was more drinks with Carla at a rooftop lounge in midtown. Good if you want to smoke, but it was muggy as all hell. Tonight we were joined by Larry, Moe and Curly who I sort of put down a while ago, but tonight they were good company. Usual disparagement about how the partners aren’t doing what they should be doing, and leaving the work for the associates who depend on the partners to do their job. Four Heinekens and that was it for me. We parted ways and I walked across town in the humidity back to the swamplands of Hoboken.

For the hungry surrealist

The view from the rooftop lounge