Later than I expected. Back to the Friday routine of coming home, getting out of my work clothes, and doing the laundry. I hope this becomes a regular thing. Work was good today. Quiet, just me and Kimberly. I actually did things, applied the instructions, and did well. I did say aloud that I knocked it out.

Most of the office was out since it was Friday. Not many people on the train for the morning or evening commute. That was enjoyable as I read Sweet Soul Music by Peter Guralnick. Last night, after posting on this here blog, I had a phone call from my brother Brian. He was calling to see how the job was going.

He had been worried when I was let go from Bratty McGrotty. I told Brian exactly what was going on in my head. My coworkers like me and believe in me, and that is 180° from Bratty McGrotty and the nest of vipers. The only thing is, I do not believe in myself. Brian knew what I was talking about.

We never got support from home, and we never supported each other. Always quick with a cutting quip. Years later, those planted seeds were not so harmless, and here they are strangling me. I think Brian was taken aback by my honesty, and I felt relieved unloading that to someone who isn’t Bill.

Bill, who is tremendously supportive and loving, and sees in me what I do not see in myself. Brian was very supportive as well, his wife Karen chiming in that she loves me, and that is always good to hear. Mike called after that and got the same spiel. And Mike, too, was supportive.

Here I am surrounded by family and friends who love and support me, and I cannot do that for myself. I used to make jokes about it, funny jokes too. Not so sure how funny it is, and I don’t really turn on the self-deprecation these days, mainly though, since I have nowhere to tell these wisecracks.

Bill’s heard them before, and Mike doesn’t understand where they’re coming from. This is a job that a lot of other people would kill to get, and here it landed in my lap. I do look fondly on earlier jobs, the HBJ warehouse where I was employed, more than likely, since my Mother was so admired.

I should have been fired from that job a few times.

Then there was Murdoch Magazines, where I worked with friends I knew from Maxwell’s and made new friends from Queens. Then the music business. Those jobs, those worlds, and some of those people don’t exist anymore.

I would go back in a minute if those jobs were still around. A simpler time. A simpler world. Now everything is up in the air. And being 62 is no picnic either. I’ve got to get it together at this late date. Easier said than done, and easier to write it too. There it is, in digital print.

Now what?