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?

Stress. I was stressed when I was without a job, and now that I have a good job, I am even more stressed out. It’s Thursday. I sat in a weekly meeting, which is something I will have to do each week going forward. Something I will have to get used to and participate in.

I work with really nice people, they see something in me that I don’t see. Bill sees it, Mike sees it. I do not. And it’s stressful. I don’t want to let them down, and I guess I do not want to let myself down. That voice in the back of my head, telling me the worst things about myself. I talk to these co-workers, and I guess I am saying the right things.

I take notes, and for the past two days, I took the initiative when the need arose. And my being proactive was noted and appreciated. My sleep patterns have been adjusted. I stayed up until Bill came home, and I was in bed by 10:00 PM. I was up a little after 6:00 AM. I shuffled along while Bill was already on the road.

I finished The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison and figured reading Gratitude by Oliver Sacks would be uplifting. I had read it before and forgot it was all leading to Oliver Sacks’ death. Tomorrow I am going to reread Sweet Soul Music by Peter Guralnick. That should be alright, I reckon.

My phone has been adding to my stress. Since July 2024, I have been having trouble charging it. The adapter would have to be carefully balanced into the slot, and it was going well since then. The past week or so, it’s been difficult. Stress levels grew.

I figured it was going to be time for me to get a new smartphone. After work, I walked down to Chelsea and visited the Google store. A young woman named Gaby asked if I needed help, and I sure did. I explained to Gaby my problem and she walked away, reappearing a minute later with a can of air, and some tools that resembled.

After a spritz of air, Gaby set about using the dental tools and began digging out a lot of dust and pocket lint. And about five minutes later, Gaby plugged an adapter into the slot and it fit perfectly. I asked if I could do the same, and Gaby stepped away, allowing me to do so. And sure enough, the adapter was snug in the slot.

I thanked Gaby profusely and was soon on my way to the PATH train. I didn’t want to search for a seat, so I wound up walking back to the street where the office where I’ve been working is, which is also where the back entrance to the PATH train is.

Sure enough, I found a seat and started reading a collection about The Fall and Mark E. Smith. Another not so uplifting thing. I bought it soon after Mark E. Smith died, but never got around to reading it, and now I remembered why. It was nothing new, really, it was just a collection of reviews and interviews from the New Musical Express back in the day.