Wednesday night, 44°, malaise in the air. Both inside and outside my head unease abounds. I wrote the previous two posts for this here blog earlier in the day. The first day I found myself prepared to write at night only to remember I had written already. Last night I was not affected by a need to post. Today it’s relatively later than Monday or Tuesday.

There was a manic high recently but that seems so long ago. Today despair was on the horizon. I must remember not to be baring my soul to Bill or Mike on the phone. Bill needs to focus on his work and Mike does not know how to handle my mercurial moods and would rather not. I can’t blame him.

Back in the day, hanging out with Julio or Pedro, both knew how to deal with me. But I don’t think I was of the same mindset that I am nowadays. Things really were carefree. I suppose it was life in Weehawken, 30 years ago.

So here I am today. Bill has figured out how to deal with me. When he’s here or when Mike is here, I am fine. I focus on them. Alone time ruins me. I did some walking this afternoon. Considerably colder than the past few days.

Everything is too familiar when walking alone in Hoboken. Mike just takes it all in, commentary and all, whereas Bill and I converse. Mike asks questions when we’re home. He also sees things that Bill & I overlook.

A few weeks ago Bill, Mike and I went to the really big supermarket in town. As usual Bill and I go in different directions with Mike alternating between us and getting his own stuff. This particular day Bill and I had to go to the courtesy counter to fix and overcharge, Bill about 20 feet ahead.

I passed a large, handsome man in sweats. Apparently, Bill or I yelled to each other, saying ‘Babe…’ Mike noticed a look of disdain for the affection we stated on the large, handsome man in sweats. We were oblivious and I secretly thought the large, handsome man in sweats was on the down low. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

So many things to say, so few ears to say them to. That’s a riddle that will confound me years from now, if there are years from now. Things to say to Bill who I know does not want to talk about. Thorny issues. In 2005 I would have posted about it, so fearless I was back then. Today I clutch the pearls at such a thought.

Bill is on his way home and I have a lecture given by Green Gartside of Scritti Politti, on YouTube and casting to my TV playing at the moment. I’ve been sleeping well so that’s something.

I still am astounded that I am 62, born in 62 and stand at 6’2”.It’s a handicap when looking for work these days. Such ageism.

And L’Orange Merde and his ilk are destroying the country.

It’s Tuesday, a spring like Tuesday, 63° & sunny. I’ve gathered my steps for the day, nine thousand and change. I’ve been borderline depressed. Walking around in the bright sunshine helped somewhat, but it would have been better if someone had been with me.

And then there was the surprise resentment I found for some people. No names offered, just grudges since it seemed that I did not have enough on my mind.

Yesterday had me getting a few spam calls. I screened them mostly. I also change my voice if I take the call. If they hang up I call them back to find the number is out of service. But what appeared to be the biggest scam was Rafael Banta from XSPS USA External.

I’ve been dealing with SPS lately. They had me interview in an office at 23rd Street and Park Ave South. I thought it went well, they didn’t. Despite that, I called their office at 10 East 40th Street, a building I used to work in.

Left voicemails stating this Rafael Banta was calling on their behalf. I can’t imagine a staffing agency in midtown Manhattan would outsource recruiters from Marikina, Philippines, but with XSPS USA External anything is possible I would guess. I used the ‘not normal’ voice to speak with Rafael and I took control of the interview.

The thing that pisses me off is that I made arrangements to be available for this interview which seemed to be a scam, calling from 12 hours away. I had a request for my availability for some production which I gave and rescinded since I thought the phone interview was a real thing.

There are more unemployed people today than there were back in November 2024. Going as far back to FDR, every President tried to lower the unemployment rate, every President except for the resident, L’Orange Merde.

While walking around I remembered a class trip in 1975 to Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. I didn’t remember much about the Village, I remember the songs on various AM transistor radios riding back to NJ.

The trip took longer than expected and we did not get back until late, much later than I had been accustomed to back then, parents sitting in a cold parking lot at St Francis de Sales grammar school in Lodi, NJ. The top 40 song that played in my head was ‘Take It to the Limit’ by the Eagles.

Love ‘em or hate ‘em, it is part of my DNA which might have a few questionable songs playing on that double helix of mine. I do love ‘Love Will Keep Us Together’ by The Captain and Tennille. My memory of that was hearing synthesized music in 1975 in a pop song and my brother Brian and I marveling at it in the Rochelle Diner in Rochelle Park having lunch with our mother.

Another song that creeps through the sponge like top 40 playlist is ‘Gimme Dat Ding’ by the Pipkins. That came out when I was 8 years old. These pop songs weren’t all diamonds. I don’t think I took music ‘seriously’ until 1973.

Also concurrently in my mind is something that family members sometimes do, which is ‘I’m not calling them, I called them last time’. It’s bullshit and I found myself doing just that. All it took was the picking up of the phone, no need to dial just hit the profile pic and having done that, making a phone call to someone I wanted to talk to but a misguided sense of Irish pride was stopping me from doing so.

I threw the pride away and called. It went well. No need for that nonsense.