I have probably mentioned it before or whined about it. Some people are afraid of me at work. I am not a violent guy, I don’t punch walls or slam doors. I’m a guy who is 6’2”, weighs about 215 lbs., and yes, I have a mouth on me. And yes that mouth has gotten me into trouble (though this here blog cost me 2 jobs).

The thing is, I’ve known frightening guys. Growing up and later in life, they were around. I saw men being violent when I was growing up. Luckily for me, they were friends or liked me. I’m not like them, though I did appreciate their company and sometimes enjoyed the powders they were offering. I willingly played the court jester at 4:00 in the morning, entertaining people who were grinding their teeth and talking a mile a minute.

We all paid the price, one way or another, if not the next day then some years down the road. Sometimes I see them on the street, they’ve turned their life around, they met a good woman who they loved and did not like the things they were doing so they stopped. I was the same way. Bill didn’t like what I was doing and I eventually stopped. Nowadays it would be crazy to put various powders under one’s nose.

A very dear friend of mine, who I truly loved in an ultra-platonic way and loved me back in an ultra-platonic way before a massive falling out over L’Orange Merde was that guy. He’s the one who springs to mind.

One particular event looms large. The two of us were playing dominoes in some bar on the Lower East Side. Powders were around and one had to go to the men’s room to do such things. We couldn’t give up our prime spot so it was one at a time, a handoff under the domino table.

It was my turn for a trip to the men’s room and as I approached I saw a queue to get to the restroom and decided not to. My friend was alarmed at this and thought someone had done me wrong. I tried to reassure him that there was nothing wrong, that I would wait till the line thinned out.

He did not believe me and insisted that someone insulted me. He calmed down after a few minutes after I saw the anger in his eyes. I never was afraid of this friend, like I said, I loved him in this mutual admiration club. And it’s guys like him that would truly strike fear in those whom he did not know.

His day job involved being the boldest of the bold and he reveled in that position. He would tell me of injuries that he would inflict on uncooperative people. He knew I was attracted and repulsed by these tales. I never told him not to tell me these things which could have made me an accomplice perhaps.

I haven’t spoken to him in a long time and I miss him. Who wouldn’t want someone looking out for them like that? Then again it was the nineties and a lot of things were different then. He and I were both different.

The thing is, I’ve known people who would strike fear in the likes of my co-workers and I am not like that at all, but here I am, striking fear in these people I work with. Let’s face it, these co-workers see me as an angry old white guy.

But I’m the type of guy, who if I saw them in trouble on the street, I would do my best to help them.

My friend eventually moved to the West Coast to get away from the life he led for a living. I continue to wish him well.

Today was a better day than yesterday even though I was awoken about an hour earlier than I would have liked and then there was some tossing & turning in a vain attempt to get back to the level of sleep I had been in.

Yesterday was stressful and Bill noticed. He was concerned enough to kiss me awake as he was heading out to tell me he loved me so much. I returned the kiss, telling him to have a good day and to break a leg as this was an acting thing he had going on.

I was back on the pillow when he returned a moment later, trying not to be obtrusive with his smartphone flashlight, looking for something that may have fallen out of his pocket as he was leaning over to kiss me. He was on a tight schedule so he had to give up the search.

I found what he was looking for after he left, finding it in my right armpit. I got up and took a photo of it and sent it to him. He thanked me and told me to go back to bed, which I did but was not really able to get back to sleep.

I headed to work, got my bagel, and was a little bit early for the Path train which was fine. A woman and I both sat in the double seat at the same time. She looked at her phone while I read the latest issue of Mojo with Bob Dylan from 1974 on the cover. She left the train at Exchange Place and I carried onto the Oculus.

I was in before quite a few people in the office and I saw my supervisor’s supervisor was not in which was a good sign that they would not be in today. Perhaps they were working from home but out of sight, out of mind. And I had a lot of work to do which I had completed by early afternoon.

My break was nice too. I had a good cigar, my spot on Thomas Street was available and there were no crazy people staring at me from three feet away. It was only 2 hours from departure time today and that was filled nicely.

I did my usual mumbo jumbo before I left, cleaning off my desk, and making sure the copier that I will use in the morning is filled. Then the elevator. Not an express ride, the elevator stopped at another floor where a young woman I get along with got in.

She was with Marcos Ferdinand, an obese staffer in the office, who resides in a large walk-in closet. Marcos will not ride the elevator with me which I think is fine. Who needs to ride a lift with an obese, closeted former nurse? Not me.

I explained to the young woman that I am poison to Marcos Ferdinand, someone who married and had a kid just to prove to everyone that he was not a homosexual. I wouldn’t call them gay, not even queer. Homosexual seems to be the word and if the tiara fits, better wear it in the closet.

After the young woman got out, 4 Russians got on the elevator, taking to themselves, “Da da da”. At the ground floor, they just stood there and I had to say, ‘Come on, let’s go!’ Which they did.