And then she turned around. She doesn’t think he already has something that you turn around for. She had a cut through all the time before. I tattooed on his fine saying, Phoenix, Arizona 1949. Hello, you seem to be working now, microphone. How the fuck did that happen? You’re killing me. You’re killing me.

This previous paragraph was from when the microphone started to work, with me attempting to sing along to Little Egypt by The Coasters. And then my comments regarding the microphone were spoken into the microphone.

Today was different. A July 2 Wednesday. I slept OK, not as good as previous nights, but it was enough. I am typing again. Not dictating into the phone since the microphone seems to work when it wants, and today it did not want to work. It was infuriating to me. I had become spoiled by sitting at lunch, dictating notes and ideas, and today I was prevented from doing so.

I was notified by the counselor who placed me at the job that I am employed at that I did not attend her meeting yesterday, and she wanted to know why. I could not tell her that I only just found out about the meeting since it was on her calendar, which I did not check (though I have to get into the habit of looking at her calendar daily from now on).

It did not help her meeting schedule when neither Jimmy Chile nor Stevie Something attended their appointed meetings, both of them contracted workers for the same company that placed us at the employment where we now work in Manhattan.

A thing that bothered me was, despite how I think I am not addicted to my phone, my quiet meltdown over the non-functioning microphone was alleviated when it started to work, revealing that I, too, am addicted to my phone. Not as bad as others. They shoot up, whereas I just snort.
Can I quit anytime? When I want to? Today revealed it was not likely.

Now, I sit and type, which is fine. It is just something that I hadn’t done in some time. I’m tired. Physically and mentally. Will I feel this way when it’s actually time to go to sleep? I harbor doubts.

Once again, Bill is on the couch, Mike is at his crib, and I sit in front of the computer keyboard forlornly typing. It’s July 2, and the feeling is ‘meh’. Just fatigue, I guess.

Over the weekend, I wished a friend, Thomas George, down south a ‘Happy Pride’. His response was one of depression, wishing he could feel ‘that free’. I asked him what was wrong and he didn’t feel close enough to me to tell me.

I suggested he call 988, the Crisis Hotline. It’s known as the suicide hotline, but they’re also equipped to help people going through a crisis. Thomas said he had contacted them via chat, and I told him I had called them a few times in the past year or so and was able to get some troubling things off my chest.

It sort of ended with that, though I did do a wellness check and Thomas was still alive this afternoon.

Everything has settled down, the barricades have been put away the streets are not as crowded as they’ve been on this Tuesday, July 1st, 2025. It is quite a hot day, 86°, feeling like 94°. I don’t know how they get that decision, but that’s what they give me.

The Happy hangover of yesterday has faded, and things are back into their routine. It’s the four-day work week, which means it’s going to take twice as long to get through the work week for some strange reason.
I sit in my spot for the third day in a row, smoking a mini cigar, dictating lines into my phone
There was a time I would have been doing lines, but now I dictate lines. I’m met an interesting young man named Chan Khan from the other side of the planet who’s relocating to New York City. It’s nice to talk to somebody like that. Here’s an understanding young man, even though I couldn’t help him as much as he would have liked.

Mike is still in the AI limbo. 72 hours is now down to 48 hours. Hopefully, things will work out for him. I sincerely do hope things will work out for him. Yesterday I did a little bit of a walk around Union Square. I did go to Barnes & Noble yesterday with the intention of buying new books, and while I was there, I was thinking about visiting Little City Books, but while in Barnes & Noble, I picked up books, took photographs of them and ordered them through my library or if you would the bibliotheque. Marcus just walked by, coming back from a salad joint, flipping me the bird, to which case I just looked up at the sky at what he was pointing to.

I almost surreptitiously took a photograph of a handsome young man walking by, and I thought I had everything lined up he vanished off the face of the earth.

I foolishly looked at the chat that I had a few weeks ago that caused an argument between me and Mike, and it affected me in an ill manner, so I should just totally delete this guy who does not know how to spell the word paisan he spells it pizza ann. Worst Italian ever.

5 years later, people still wear masks, and people still do not know how to wear masks properly. Unless they breathe through their mouths, which they more than likely do not, unless they do.

It is very hot, slightly breezy, but very hot. I don’t think I will spend the entire hour outside after I finish the cigar; I will more than likely go back inside.

Not much else to report, Bill is on his way back to the mainland, Mike is at his home, sitting around, climbing the walls.

All right brother. That is what I said to a guy that looked like he was looking for a lighter he had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and is going through all his pockets and his bag and I just put that a letter He’s like no I’m looking for a flash drive.

How will I have Gemini AI convert this post?
Am I slowly becoming one of those people who look at their phones all the time, as I said out here, looking at my phone? There’s not much to look at, and so I look up facts I look up where Bill is at I look up for various messages from various friends.