The Michael Palin exercise at work once again. I did not write last night as I had forgotten and when I remembered I was too tired and it was too late to do anything. I did have a crazy dream last night.
Joselita Semana the Queen of the Closets was in the World Trade Center Oculus cleaning and started shit once again. Ysmael Villanueva appeared in the dream as non-descript as ever.
At one time I liked Ysmael and suggested he take up modeling as he was relatively handsome despite the acne he suffered from.
He was an eager beaver to be an American citizen and probably voted for L’Orange Merde. He was one of the few social miscreants from the mailroom who would actually say ‘Hi’ when he saw me.
It was a good dream since in the dream I received word that Joselita Semana had died. No, I was not a suspect in my own dream, just very happy to hear the news. But that was then here I am now.
The interview that I had a couple of weeks ago fell by the wayside. I was so sure it was mine but alas, it was not to be. I should have lied and said ‘Yes I do know how to use a floor buffer’ but I answered truthfully. C’est la vie. I always tend to think I got the job.
I never see the other applicants lined up outside, which is because of the scheduling of interviews. Still resumes go out and this 62-year-old chap who thinks he’s 42 years old and will lie saying he’s 50 is tired.
It had been a long day. An online cigar friend, Mike works nearby on the Hoboken Jersey City border. He works in a shelter and thinks I could get a job there. But it is quite a pay cut and I don’t know if I have the meddle to handle the residents of a shelter.
Mike’s tales aren’t particularly enticing. Mike is nice, handsome, and an interesting character. Does he have stories or what? You don’t know since I’m not one to kiss and tell.
He’s living in Newark and moving to Jersey City and looks forward to having me over for cigars and chats. In-person chats since online chats are usually focused on one thing, but as I learned today, the conversation can get quite freewheeling. I look forward myself to hanging out with a new friend.
Bill would like him, I think. But that’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. Bill comes home tomorrow after his time on the road. It was OK I guess, and there were a few hiccups. That’s Bill’s story and not mine and it’s not my place to tell tells out of school. And I don’t kiss and tell.
His schedule tomorrow is pandemonium but he thinks he can handle it and I believe that he shall. I think I will sleep well tonight but will sleep better when he is in bed with me tomorrow night.