Monthly Archives: December 2024

Grey Seal

It is not getting easier as soon as I had hoped. It’s not getting harder though. I see desperation on the horizon. It’s been over a month and a half and bitterness still lingers.

I have decided to cut any ties with Barry McGarry for the sake of my mental health. Unfortunately, that would mean cutting off Daisy and though she has done me no harm, she is part of that system therefore a reminder of the system that threw me out.

Her last text to me was about meeting up but I don’t see it happening since I am still wounded and all I would do is focus on my wound and denigrate the people she works with. I think I helped improve her life, getting her out of the fast food world with a steady Monday through Friday job with benefits and also a year end bonus which she more than likely received this time of year.

I found myself thinking of the boys that I graduated from St Francis de Sales with, in June 1976. Granted I never saw them outside of the school year, by September 1976 Ronald Straub, Frank Mallia, Santo Munafo, Jimmy Bartoli, Frank Musacchio, Charlie Wrede, and that helicopter guy Kaminski something or other.

We were all friendly in grammar school but by high school 3 months later, we were separated and any contact between me and them was nonexistent. I see Charlie Wrede on the social medias but he seems to be touched by maga that I keep my distance.

Ronald Straub was a sensitive guy, very quiet, and very smart. The rest were not as smart as Ronald. I did see Santo Munafo and Jimmy Bartoli at the reunion in 2000. I was gakked out that night and the guys I wanted to see were not there. It was a futile return to the past and I left knowing that I would never want to see these people again.

The guys I wanted to see were John Nesselt who maintains no social media presence as far as I know, and Jim Carley who seems to have passed away at age 35 in 1997 while jogging.
Let that be a lesson for ya! I learned not to go to any reunions that were not family functions.

The TV has been off most of the day so far and I’ve been listening to music most of the time. Earlier before heading out for a cigar stroll, I listened to music tones from the Bloom 10 app. Now I listen to an Elton playlist.

Bill and I watched the Elton John documentary streaming last week. I found it to be very good and well-made. Bill seemed to enjoy it too. Piano player watching a piano player.

The idea for a podcast still exists in the back of my mind. The chat with Jim Mastro planted a seed in my head. I mentioned picking up the torch that was dropped by Spalding Gray and where Spalding sat at a table talking, the spaces in which to do just that are few and far between. To me, it seems a podcast would be the place to do such a thing.

I could also interview friends like RoDa, Karyn Kuhl and others. If I get just a few pairs of eyeballs to watch, that would suffice. Not necessarily profitable but artistically it would be like this here blog, where the only eyeballs that seem to read this are my own. But with all the entries I have posted since 2005, I have a wealth of material to draw from.

I have kept the fact of my unemployment to a handful of people, Bill, of course, Annemarie, my sister-in-law Elaine, and Mike who still dangles the prospect of working alongside him in the shelter.

Today I just told my brother Brian who asked if I had gone to the company holiday party. I couldn’t hide it from him since he asked and lying about it would do no good at all. He’s recovering from a cardiac procedure last week and I asked how he was doing via text and his reply was about the holiday party.

I just told him to keep getting better and not to worry about me and to keep it to himself. We shall see how that goes.

Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?

Postpone, delay. Been thinking about writing and I know once I do, things generally flow freely from there. It’s been cold, so time outside is usually a trip to the supermarket, which is what Bill and I did today. It was a bit of a letdown. I almost wrote fiasco but letdown works better.

Just the timing of the supermarket visit. And now we remember that Sunday afternoon is not the best time to go. Just too crazy and busy. I usually buy Pesto in a jar there and it’s usually selling for $2.99. At least that’s what I saw when I was there earlier in the week. Today it was $4.39.

I suppose it’s mere corporate greed. Now that L’Orange Merde once again reneged on another campaign promise to lower grocery prices, just the other day stated, that once prices go up it’s hard to make them come down. Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?

A dumbass professional writer made a comment about tariffs on my social medias. Bill and I take the long way to get to the supermarket, for me it’s only about counting steps. Bill made a remark about me being the Mayor of Hoboken since I saw a friend, Kurt selling his wares on Washington St.

Bill wasn’t around back in the day when it would take forever to get down the boulevard since it seemed, every 50 feet I would run into a friend. Those days are gone. I used to think I never saw these friends anymore since they might have seen me first. Now I just think they’ve moved on, either physically or into the universe.

Hoboken has changed considerably since I first moved here 40 years ago. No watering holes for these weary bones. There was an event nearby that a few friends who are still around or have cars to drive in from the suburbs were performing at.

We didn’t attend for myriad reasons. Bill knew about it, I mentioned it a few times but neither one of us did anything about it. I was in something resembling a funk and Bill did try to reach out for me but I was not feeling it, I’d rather be stewing in whatever bitter juices I was marinating in.

I snapped out of it eventually, though snap out of it means ‘right way’ and whatever happened did not happen in an instant. Now I am better. Bill and I watched Emilia Perez on Netflix which was recommended by a few social media friends.

Very good, mostly in Spanish which was easy for Bill, and I depended on the subtitles. It was an operetta which was not as offputting as I would have thought. Now we are watching Jamie Foxx explaining his life when he had a stroke. It’s heavy in most senses of the word.

Having witnessed the effects of a stroke via my brother Frank, Jamie Foxx was quite fortunate. Then again he had the money for the care and therapy.