I just received word that there is a reunion of some people that I used to work with at Skyline recording studio on 37th Street in midtown Manhattan. They were good people, but it’s been over 30 years since I last saw them.

I used to think reunions were something promising something fun, but having been to one or two of them, I realized that it’s anything but. For me, it’s uncomfortable. It’s a reopening of old wounds, or at least a viewing of the scar. The high school reunion in 2000 was a complete waste of time, although the cocaine was very good and I did not share it with anyone. I left, realizing that I never want to see these people ever again.

In 2013, I went to a Right Track Recording reunion, and that was just as awkward as I would have expected it to be. I saw someone that I might have done wrong back in the day, and felt so embarrassed that I went out for a smoke and never went back. I also spoke to a producer’s wife and asked where so-and-so was, not realizing that the producer and so-and-so might have had an affair back in the day, underneath the wife’s nose. That was awkward enough to make me want to leave as soon as possible, and I did.

So hearing of a reunion of people that I have not seen in over 30 years does not appeal to me in the slightest. And once again, I have nothing against these people; they were generally nice people. But I just found out about it a few hours ago, and I’m not going to throw everything up in the air should be uncomfortable for a few hours tonight, especially since I’m a block away from the PATH train, which is basically 30 minutes from home. The whole thing starts around 6:30 I get out at 5:00, it ain’t going to work.

And things have just gotten slightly weird concerning Mike and concerning Bill. From out of the blue might received a check from social security administration for a lot more money than he had never seen before in his hands and he wasn’t sure what it was for or why it was sent and the plan was was going to contact social security to find out but was going on but the long lineof being on hold on the phone was too much so he went and cashed the check anyway believing that the people behind the 2-in glass recognized that it was an authentic check.

Bill is worried that this will bite Mike in the ass and perhaps cause us some injury as well. I explain that there are no financial ties between us, there is no paper trail between us, but they’ll recognize social media and figures that would be a way to implicate us in something that we should not have anything to do with.

Mike was impetuous. I had made arrangements for Mike to come over and talk to Bill about it, but obviously that’s not going to happen. Bill’s worry has me worried, and I am supposed to call up Mike around 1:00, though Bill did decree that this talk was between us and only us.

I got through with Bill on the phone, and we talked. Bill seems okay with what Mike is doing and what Mike is going through, so I have no choice but to believe Bill. I just called Mike, got his voicemail, and did not leave any message.

I have dreams where Gauloises are readily available if you know where to go. I’ve had dreams where they’re in the background and all I have to do is ask for a pack, and as I’m getting that pack, I’m thinking I should buy the whole box, which was six packs.

It was a wonderful tobacco, and God knows I smoked enough of them sometimes with hash inside. That familiar blue packaging occasionally pops up in my dreams. I had smoked Marlboro’s at one point, and they never pop up in my dreams, and I’m grateful for that.

It’s Tuesday afternoon at 65°, it’s October 21st. Yancey is on his way down to my spot to unclutter my desk though I had no idea it was cluttered but I guess I will find out if and when they arrive it’s timing is awful though because we are short one team member at that location where he works at #14 but he intends to come down here and do what he has to do which more than likely means infringe upon whatever I have to do.

Waiting for the man, or in this case, waiting to hear a response from the man. I sent a text message the other night, no response. Then another one yesterday, no response, which leaves me to believe either he’s been busted or arrested. He had a good thing going for a number of months, but who’s to know whether or not that will continue? It’s not up to me, I wish it were.

It feels like autumn, which is pleasant enough, and you know it’s not my favorite, but here I am, and the thick of it smoking my mini cigar outside my building, a decent cigar, where in Hoboken it cost me $20 in Manhattan and cost me $39, nothing I can do about it but fork it over.

So I’m sitting outside my building, I do expect to see Yancey walking up and say hey you smoke cigars? Part of me is cheeky enough to say something like ‘Good to see your detective classes are paying off’. But he is my supervisor and an ass must be kissed.

Bill is on his way to the Bronx from being close to the Canadian border. He should be home tonight at some point, at which point I will be glad to see him. Mike is probably in Jersey City, shooting videos, taking photographs, or perhaps sleeping.

I expressed that Mike had a desire to be with us for Thanksgiving. I explained that to Bill, who was somewhat against it because of Mike’s behavior on my birthday. It was less than stellar, and he was quite a fucking pain in the ass that day. Things have gotten better since, but can he uphold a friendly outgoing attitude, or will he just scowl like he did on my birthday?

At any event, my sister-in-law Elaine would have to invite me and Bill; if that’s the case, I would have to ask her if it’s okay. She somewhat knows Mike’s story, and it might be uncomfortable for her; ultimately, the decision is up to her.

I believe it was this date last year, in 2024, when Foselito Semana physically threatened me with violence. I had reported him to human resources, who took whatever means needed to rectify the situation which spent they did nothing, and two weeks later, they got rid of me instead of the one who started the trouble. Loee Londing rose to the occasion as impotent as he generally is and fabricated an excuse to get rid of me, which I do not believe to this day actually happened. But what’s done is done, the douchebags have been flushed, and I’m in a better space, so it’s a win for me and who gives a fuck for them.