Dreamt about former co-worker thing Dun Chappedlipso and his sidepiece Izzy Newtown stealing my stuff and hiding it. I knew it was them but could never prove it. Pauline Black from the Selecter showed up and sympathized but ultimately could not help me.

I just exchanged texts with Daisy. She is full of hope for me. I try not to dissuade her. I advised her to not attend the holiday parties as people just get drunk and behave badly then the mailroom washerwomen spend the rest of the year gossiping.

I’m still bitter. The dream awakened the bitterness, just when I hoped it had ebbed. Daisy is probably reluctant to text me and is wary of a phone call though it would be a different ‘me’ on the blower rather than being all thumbs when texting.

Bill knows of Mike, and Mike knows of Bill. Neither the twain have met, yet. There is a subject that Bill does not like to talk about and I think it was on his mind this afternoon. I know him relatively well and while he was silent in his search for one of his phones I felt there was something else on his mind.

Mike called when Bill was but a few feet from me, and Mike likes to call me Dad. So in return, I call him Son. It’s not a big deal, and Bill heard me answer the phone ‘Hello Son’. I think that threw Bill for a loop.

Bill is on the road tonight and I walked with him to the train station for his trip to the garage. I explained Mike’s situation a bit to ease what seemed to be his troubled mind. Bill’s reluctance to speak could decrease and what was on his mind could probably pop up eventually.

I’ve seen it before. And on a similar note, it’s been about 12 years by my tally.

Mike would love to have the relationship that Bill and I have. He loves the fact that we call each other Bert and Ernie. And he’s seen the dolls we have of them. I think Mike likes the fact that I am different and unlike any gay guy he’s met before. He also thinks I am smart despite my attempts to dissuade him of such silly thoughts.

He called me up a week or so and asked for my opinion. He told me he doesn’t like politics, democrats, or the unmentionables. (I called them the unmentionables, not Mike) He explained his view and I told him whether or not he likes politics, he will be affected by politics.

I explained the plans that the unmentionables have and that there is a good chance the price of food will rise due to the desolate ideas on the horizon which will line the pockets of the rich by emptying the pockets of everyone else.

Mike told me he appreciated my response.

I don’t know if we are on the brink of a civil war but there is a class struggle that seems to be brewing, hence the lack of sympathy for the CEO of United Healthcare’s murder.

The time is the time and it’s time. Time to write. Obligation? Habit? Or, worse yet, discipline? Practice makes perfect. Beset by distraction. Not that there are other things to do, but the internet has so many rabbit holes to fall through.

It’s later in the day. I did enjoy writing in the day last week, but obviously, I haven’t done that. Lewis Lapham was indirectly responsible for this blog, telling Bill and myself, that a writer, possibly Balzac would write at least 500 words a day.

And that was without computerized word counts. Perhaps Balzac’s discipline was counting each and every word as he put pen to paper. That takes a lot and I admit to being spoiled by the modern age and it’s word count.

This morning the CEO of United Healthcare was shot and killed on 54th sTreet outside the New York Hilton. Bill and I saw the video online. To our eyes trained by movies and television portrayals of hit men, this looked like a hit.

The state of things today, not many people had sympathy for the murdered CEO. Some have said it was probably someone whose family member was denied healthcare by United Healthcare and was literally out for blood.

There was a graphic that I saw and I can’t say that it was true, but it showed a list of major insurance companies and United Healthcare at the bottom with the highest denials of insurance claims.

Also- the CEO was paid 14 million dollars a year. Not much love for the rich though just last month they seemed to vote in favor of the rich, not to mention in favor of horrid people. Distracted again. Texting with Julio and Mike, separately.

Tonight Bill and I went to city hall for the council meeting. We wanted to show support to a local dispensary which is under attack from a Helen Lovejoy-type complaining that an approved dispensary is too close to schools that are directly opposite a smoke shop and liquor store.

One of the schools is a religious school and the pastor came to make comments about how she never sees anyone in favor of the dispensary to which a few of us supporters shouted ‘Turn around’. I don’t think she anticipated anyone yelling at a wearer of the cloth.

The wheels of democracy grind slowly and for me, a good part of this council meeting was tedious. Not to demean public servants but would a little pizzazz hurt anyone?

I had a daydream during the proceedings about people showing up and discussing what’s what with AI versions of all the council members. Each citizen present would input their issues and the AI council could talk about the various decisions and outcomes.

I told you it was a daydream. I thought of it so much I texted it to myself so I wouldn’t forget. Taking notes they call it.

I do recall an actual dream concerning a reclusive rockstar, named Bessex Starr outside what used to be the Bottom Line.