It’s Monday. Bill returned Saturday evening/Sunday morning. Mike was asleep on the couch, I crept down the stairs around 12:15 to help him with his baggage. I took three smaller bags, which were quite heavy. By the time I had gotten to the top floor, I was exhausted and out of breath.

I waited for Bill to come home so I could help him out, and I was tired already. I did not sleep well the night before, so that caught up with me and definitely helped me sleep a lot better that night. All weekend long, it was cold and rainy and not much like spring at all.

Most of the time, Mike and I hung out and watched movies and TV shows. He truly loves being here with me & Bill. We provide a safe space and we have furniture which his flat sorely lacks. He loves Hoboken. The people he works with see Hoboken as a snobby, upscale town, and I guess it is.

It is certainly not the same place I moved to 41 years ago. Not many artists or musicians or writers, or poets. It’s a cultural wasteland overrun by bros and young parents who look at their phone while pushing their kids in a stroller and paying more attention to their phone than their children. Let’s face it, the world is ruled by dummies with smartphones.

And the world seems to be getting worse. Today I found myself thinking about my dearly departed friend, Juan Brosales. You might have read about Juan in the initial posts from 2006-2023 thereabouts. Juan was here in the apartment, just to get a break from his parents, and Bill and I were more than willing to let him hang out and even crash on the couch should the need arise.

People in the US are being abducted off the streets and disappeared. And sometimes deposited in what has been called the world’s worst prison, in El Salvador. Juan’s parents were from El Salvador and pursued the American dream successfully. Juan sort of rejected that life; he had an artistic bent, as well as left of center politics, and was responsible for turning me onto some fantastic music.

And what brought Juan up was the abduction and deposit in that infamous El Salvador prison of Kilmar Abrego Garcia. Garcia had fled El Salvador and was fighting to stay in the US when he was abducted. If Juan was still alive, and Juan was no gang member, he too, for his posts on the social medias, could have certainly caused problems and led to his disappearance.

They take your ID and any other identifying items, like a smartphone, and send you out of the country without anything resembling due process. Juan died in September 2021. Perhaps he had an idea of what was coming. Of course he didn’t, but it’s a balm for my troubled mind and heart that misses him so.

Things are a fucking mess and it seems the great experiment that was the United States is over, thanks to the putrid jism stain known as L’Orange Merde.

It’s been another cold and damp day in Hoboken. In Jersey City, it was cold and rainy. I know because I was in both towns today. And Jersey City was mere minutes after a helicopter crashed into the Hudson River, killing all aboard. The sky had a few news copters hovering about. I knew that it would be the main story today on the local news, and I just kept moving along in an attempt to stay warm as I walked over to see Mike.

I had a bag full of his stuff, clothes, socks, underwear, and sneakers, as well as a nail clipper to replace the one he had lost. Bill made an appearance since the people he was driving wound up nearby for a few hours. Bill took it upon himself to get on the light rail to Hoboken. He was here for a little over an hour, which was good.

I was chillin’ though, and he had some questions about things I did not want to think about. So those things were brought to the forefront, leaving my mellow to be unduly harsh. I wasn’t in the best frame of mind since I did not sleep too well the night before. I tossed and turned before getting out of bed and trying to get some sleep about 20 minutes later, which did the job of sleep, but not restful or deep.

Bill’s questions were all about the job, and even Mike had some questions. I know it’s a Monday through Friday job, but I don’t know the hours, though they are normal office hours as far as I could tell. Bill didn’t mean to, but he made me anxious, which did not serve me at all. And the walk to meet up with Mike didn’t help since I was in the thick of the aftermath of the helicopter crash.

The walk with Mike was good, but it started to rain. I enjoyed most of a cigar, nonetheless letting it fade out since I knew I would be taking the train back to Hoboken instead of gathering steps as my original plan was. Before I made it to Jersey City, I walked down Washington Street after getting a cigar from Imram.

I made it a point to swing by DoneRight Kebab, a new Halal restaurant on the Avenue. Last night I had a sample from the restaurant and it was sooo good. I walked by again and saw the young woman again, and nabbed another sample. Last night’s sample was a chicken wrap, today was a lamb and chicken combo, which was sooo good once again. I told Mike about it and he seemed interested, but he may have been being nice.

The mood today matched the weather, the rain falls down on a humdrum town. Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest is 55 years old today, and Terre Roche from The Roches is 72. I posted videos from each on social medias to celebrate them and the gifts they gave us.

Today was Thursday.