It’s come down to the end it seems with Mike and myself. I have thought that before but this might be the first time I have written it down.

Not too happy about it. It’s a new chapter that Mike seems to be writing. Apparently Mike has been thinking about it for weeks. I had an inkling.

Still, it came as a surprise, and it definitely hurts. That’s life. Mike cried, I did not. His mind is made up. He consulted with his counselor and she backed him up. I wish I could dictate my thoughts but as usual the microphone is not cooperating.

I keep trying to no avail.

Still not working. It’s just as well. I am bitter. I am confused. I am uncertain. I am wounded. I am bewildered. But most of all, I am hurt. I gotta look out for number one. I am thinking that it was a mistake. I almost turned to Mike and said that. We are sitting side by side in the audience waiting to see Bill in Postal Madness.

Unease on my part, oblivious or so I project upon Mike.

Focusing on the things that Mike does that I find irritating could help with the break.
I sit watching Bill in a ______ play and I find myself distancing from Mike who’s elbow is half an inch from my elbow. I am grateful that this will more than likely not be read by Mike and I can basically write whatever I damn will please.

Postal Madness is a few centimeters above Pap Smear, and that is saying something without saying much at all.

It’s definitely a strange situation. The cigar dad and the cigar son is clearly a fantasy that Mike wanted to maintain, or at least started to. He does like to call me Dad, and I was calling him son for quite a few months. But now, since there is nothing physical between us, the fantasy is gone, and I’m a guy who smokes cigars basically any chance I can get, whereas Mike smokes cigars only for the camera.

And that’s the fantasy, and I was drawn in by the fantasy, and it was fun, and he indulged that fantasy, and that was fun, but now the fantasy is over, he spoke his truth that I asked him to d,o and now that chapter is finished.

It hurt quite a bit the past week or so, but lately the cycle is 3 weekends a month, we’re getting around great one weekend, it turns to shit, and this is that weekend, although last weekend when I asked the question was the start over the end of this chapter.

I am used to having him around, but when he’s around, he spends a lot of the time, perhaps too much of the time, looking at his phone. I would try to interact with him by asking what are you watching, I need usually say something and it was quite banal most of the time of things that he was watching people behaving badly and people being mistreated and he would be indignant or outraged though as I dictate this into the phone which by the way is dictating again, that he would alter the atmosphere chemically through his reaction to what he was witnessing.

New Dawn, New Day, and New Attitude, perhaps. Am I overly dramatic Am I a drama queen?
The fault lies with both Mike and myself, perhaps we are both using each other. Both of us know that is so it really that much of a problem?

I am taking off work on Friday since the PATH station will be closed for the weekend and I just don’t want to have the hassle I have time off available and I am taking it I knew I’d be taking a mental health day in August in here I am on the last day of August taking that mental health day.

I am also taking my birthday off on September 12th. I told Mike that Bill and I might rent a car and go down the shore, and he’s welcome to join us, so that might happen. It’s all very confusing and unsettling but we’re working our way out of it, Bill, Mike, and I.

I just glanced at the first line of this post, and here I am at the exact opposite end. Woe is me, things are horrible, things are over to now things are not so over, things are getting better, strangeness abounds.

Why has Hope Schaefer popped into my head? I am thinking about writing a play after saying Bill’s play and writing about the situation that erupted between Bill, Mike, and me this weekend, only set up Bill, Mike, and me. I’m going to label it Walter David and Richie.

Brenda Renetti

I admit I am bewitched by Billy Joel’s Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, Bewitched, since the 1970s.

So much so, I just played it at my desk once and a half times, the halftime is I went back to the beginning cuz I wasn’t paying much attention. And I actually thought for a spell that it was about a woman named Brenda Renetti instead of Brenda and Eddie.

So it’s a Friday, it is August 22nd, it is my sister’s 71st birthday, and she and her husband are going to Europe next week for a month, how nice. I would like to do the same with Bill someday, but it’s not happening any time soon since our schedules are so varied and I don’t have a passport anymore.

I sit in the shade next to 104 5th avenue, having a cigar, not a mini cigar but an actual cigar, a 52 gauge, I believe. And I have been a gavon today. I ate a lot this morning, and it wasn’t necessarily good stuff, but it was sweet stuff: donuts, bacon, and eggs sandwich, croissant cookie, and to make things better, I had a salad for lunch which was a chore to get through because there was so much salad and so little room in my stomach.

I had to go to the old location for the fruit tree for a meeting, it should have lasted an hour, but lasted about 2. I sat next to Lex Luthor, who got up and vomited twice, which was disconcerting to say the least. Is he bulimic? Is he doing drugs? Is it any of my business? Perhaps if he’s contagious, I’m thinking Captain Trips.

It was stated that there is a plan for Lex Luthor and me to exchange spots once or twice a month. I would prefer once a month, but I don’t think I have any say in the matter. Perhaps if Marcus and Jimmy Chile make him uncomfortable, it might work out for my benefit. Only time will tell I reckon.

I got to the office earlier, I was able to eat my bacon and egg sandwich, and then what’s up 25 blocks to the office meeting. And I lackadaisically had an enjoyable walk back to the office, where I am working underneath the fruit tree.

Mike is supposed to come over tonight, and tomorrow we are going to see a preview of the play Bill is in. That should be exciting. Mike actually knows more about it than I do.
It’s funny in June, I was still commenting on how Mike doesn’t talk that much, and he responded that I should talk to his old friends who would tell him they could never get him to shut up.

Well, last night was one of those nights where I could never get him to shut up. He had a lot to say it was all worthwhile, but I was getting tired and I had to go to bed. I do enjoy our talks and talk about serious issues, things that are on his mind, theology, etc. I don’t think anybody else in his life would be able to have a conversation with him like that. He unfriended someone who was Maga. An old hookup that he reconnected with on the phone, and as they spoke, this person explained how much he supports L’Orange Merde, much to Mike’s dismay.

Without being presumptuous, I think his views on philosophy and politics might have been somewhat influenced by me and Bill. And that’s not such a bad thing after all.