Its own reward

That was mainly overheard from the meeting, still debating whether or not to leave it in or leave it out.

I read a worrying post on social media from a good friend from the past, Frankie, who posted something that seemed like a suicide note. I certainly hope not, of course. Frankie’s a good dude.

Donna Summer Bad Girls is playing. The first time I heard the song, I was with Henry Venegas and his girlfriend Lisa, we were going to see the Cosmos play soccer at Giants Stadium, it must have been 79. This was before I told Henry that I wanted to blow him, and Henry was horrified and disgusted, and we never spoke again. He was a hot man with Henry always grabbing his crotch. Now he’s a middle-aged man with a wife and children, and grandchildren. I hope he’s happy.

I am feeling better today than I did the past couple of days. The weather outside fits the mood that I am in or the mood I was in. It’s gray, it’s overcast, it’s drizzly.
Oh, how I regret falling in love with Mike. What a mistake that has been, and I’m still paying the price for it emotionally

I did talk to Frankie Santangelo about the Mike relationship a few months ago. Lately, it seems that Frankie is on the ledge me and a few of his other friends are trying to figure out what the hell is going on with him. He’s a sensitive dude, I’d hate to see him suffer like that.

Like me, Frankie is a checkerboard chick. Steadfast and true, and we end up with our hearts black and blue. I left him two phone call voicemails, but nothing. I should have done it last night, but me being me, I did not. He’s a sensitive soul, that Frankie. I looked at a previous text and recommended that he call 988 should he have a problem, and then had to explain what 988 was the price is hotline that actually does help; an objective ear can fill a prescription.

So it is a damp and humid Thursday afternoon, September 25. My sister and her husband have returned from Europe, 24 hours spent traveling non-stop, so they are exhausted and they’re there 70s, so it can’t be an easy recovery, but only time will tell.

Bill was supposed to be driving some high schoolers this afternoon, and that was canceled, so he will be home when I get home, which is nice.

Sirens blare in the distance, summoning men to crash the boats on the rocks

Days like this slow the time down. I stand here talking into my phone and looking at people as they walk by. I always make eye contact. I really couldn’t say until something happens.

The torment for Mike is my own doing, and I maintain it, perhaps it’s a punishment for myself, I don’t know, so I have long escaped the clutches of the Catholic Church; the Catholic Church still has clutches in me

We’re going to have a real good time together said the Velvet Underground

So all those notes at the beginning of this that we’re overheard by my microphone from the meeting I attended will have to be deleted before I post, and then because it’s nonsense and has nothing to do with anything really outside of the office.

Some people wear masks on their faces and still don’t know how to wear them properly.
I received a text from 516-259-0766, a woman whose arms are like noodles after yoga. She claims to be looking for Emma and has mentioned once or twice that she is surprised that I do not remember her number. I called the number from a landline and got a Google voicemail.
I have broken this post into two. The first half was overheard from the meeting second half is actually me talking, dictating into the phone to be edited later when I get home.

Seems like it’s another strange, awkward day this September 24th, Wednesday. Have a small cigar for lunch while Mike presents his side of things regarding his new Paramore, which is not coming this weekend due to something that has come up. The new Paramore is blowing up on Facebook so much so that someone posted that he’s posting too much, to which Mike responded that it was racist. I saw it and I said I don’t think it’s racist. I thought it was rude and disrespectful.

Mike stated that the guy complaining has no black friends, and I almost mentioned that neither does Paramore, how he does not have white friends. It’s made me reluctant to request his friendship, and I did withdraw my request the other day just because it’s taking so long and I don’t really care. Plus, I’m looking at dropping out of social media for a period of time for such yet to be determined.

And though things ended on the physical side between Mike and me, it’s still a twist of the knife somewhat to hear of his infatuation with this guy from the other side of the country. I mentioned earlier that I did look him up, and I saw a missed as this and the listing as that and doing this and being that.

I found that that didn’t add up, but then again, you look at my social media info, it really doesn’t add u,p but I wasn’t putting stuff up there to meet guys I was putting stuff up to be funny as people lower their age online I added 30 years to mine so I am 93 years old on the social media.

Mike, being Mike, is oblivious to how I might be feeling. He called us up last night. It was a schedule posted for his job for October, which only had two dates of work listed, and he was freaking out, which in turn freaked me out, thinking that I’m going to have to help him look for another job again.

Turns out it was a computer glitch, and he’s working more than 2 days. He really loves me and Bill and feels comfortable enough to call when things like that happen. But like people are sometimes available when you need them, and sometimes they are not available he’s really not available when needed.

So Yancey came in today, and it was okay the one has to look at him carefully and try to figure out what’s going on in his head. There were a few issues that he had with the condition of the desk, which was not clean enough for his white gloves, and he promptly did some dusting. He reminded me that there are some apps and routines that I should do with regard to visitors.

It really shouldn’t be my job to do it, it should be the host and their requirements, but we know how that will turn out, so it falls to me.

I really don’t like autumn.

I sit at my desk listening to Elton John, Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. It’s 50 years old. I remember getting it a week or so before it was officially released, from my brother Frank, and I played it incessantly. I recall one time fighting with my brother Brian as I was listening to the album on a close and play GE record player. He caused the table to shift, and the record player was on, causing the album to scratch and causing me much despair.

Of course, he had to replace it. I remember my brother Frank giving me a CD, I guess in 2005 when it came out, and I was remarkably psyched, and he might have thought I was putting him on, but I was actually blown away.

I played the CD and much to my surprise I knew every note and nuance that I heard, even though I hadn’t played the record and at least 30 years. It truly is a classic, the ending of the Elton John band of the ’70s with Elton and Dee and Nigel and Davey, and Ray with Bernie, was the last gasp for that crew. Elton kicked Dee and Nigel out of the band. The reasons are still unclear; I would love to know, and I probably never will.