It goes on and on and on. It never ends does it? It was another Wednesday, they keep coming around every seven days or so. I keep writing and rewriting my self-evaluation as if I were James Joyce writing a laundry list. It’s more like Samuel Beckett with the existential morass that is my work week.

I do enjoy the clients though. I engage them and put them at ease. It’s quite a varied group, especially the ones that just show up without an appointment. They claim to have spoken to someone on the phone but can never remember just who was at the other end of the line.

Both yesterday and today I had people who received mass mailings and since they were in the neighborhood, they thought they might drop in to see someone about it. And since all someone has to do is say they’re there for the legal company, they get sent right up to the 18th or 22nd floor with no notice from the lobby guard.

My friend Kate fills in for me for my break and she mentioned to me that she was stressing the self-evaluation. I played it cool then but the past few days I’ve kept her abreast of my writings. She told me I should stop writing and I believe she is right. I have got to stop. Tomorrow I will stop.

For my break today I went in a different direction. Instead of north to Thomas Street I went south and sat by One World Trade Center. I needed some sunlight but the trade-off is a lot of tourists whereas Thomas Street is almost a ghost town with less than a dozen people on the sidewalks as I sit and smoke.

I don’t know, I am finding Tribeca to be so dull. Would I prefer midtown? Perhaps. Tribeca has a lot of families in it whereas midtown is mostly all business. I started working in Manhattan in midtown and that was the eighties.

I think the majority of jobs that I’ve had in the twenty-first century were mediocre at best. Really looking back on what I have done, it seems things had started out strong and then fizzled out. Putnam Lovell, Alger to name two. Both of those were financial companies and both were incredibly awful.

ABIO-IB was wobbly to begin with, no one seemed to know what was going on, including Ashish Shangrawhatchamacallit and he was the head of the pimple.

I heard from an old friend from the Maxwell’s days, Stephen Siparoti. It was a text asking if I would be at a proclamation for the original owner of Maxwell’s, Senor Fallon. It’s going on at Hoboken City Hall next week and I sort of helped out with it.

The organizer asked me for some tidbits about Senor Fallon and I told her what I could, what could be said in public without regret. It’s a limited amount of what could be said so I was quite kind and informative.