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.

I might have posted previously something called A Question of Degree. I did that yesterday, and it might have been the same title that I posted a long time ago.

It’s Autumn that’s for sure.
It was up and out this morning around 5:30 I still had another hour to go, and I woke up and it was dark out, and I had a little bit of a headache, so I said, ‘You know wha,t I should take a mental health day,’ and so I did, and I informed the authorities of my intentions.

And I slept another hour, and then I woke up and I felt guilty, and I felt worried about my PTOs dwindling away. I have almost 40 hours, which is a week, and it would like to take that time off. I only have until the end of the year, which is only two and a half months away.

And I went back and forth in my head, should I go in, should I stay home, should I go in, should I stay home? Eventually, I contacted Bill, and I asked his opinion, and he said I should probably go in if anything, I will show that I’m a trooper, so that’s what I did.

I told my supervisors and the powers that day, and I took some Pepto-Bismol and was going to lie down, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, road construction happened outside my bedroom window, rendering me unable to relax or feel better, so I thought it best to come in cuz I am a trooper.

So instead of taking 8 hours PTO, I took 2 hours PTO, which I will have to figure out how to work next week. It’s been a strange day. I’m not too happy about it, but I’m in the thick of it, and there’s nothing I could do but to get out of it and that’s merely a few hours away

Bill might be going away for a few days this weekend. They bring me alone, which is fine, I suppose. I’m not sure; anything is possible. Mike might come over tomorrow, and anything is possible if that’s the case.

Frankie dear Frankie is losing his grip on things and pleading with me to help him via text, which I’d love to help, but I don’t know how to help or even if I can help. Last night, he said I should get in touch with his ex-boyfriend and tell him to get in touch with Frankie

His ex-boyfriend Pat, who had been together for 10 years and broke up, and someone I have never met, I don’t know him, and it would be very awkward for all parties for me to be a complete stranger advising him what to do with his life. Frankie’s at wit’s end.

It’s definitely hitting him hard, so much so that he might have put himself in an institution for a few weeks.

3 hours ago via text, I asked Frankie what happened? Why did you break up? I still have not heard anything since.

He responded that it was a long-distance relationship, and Pat cheated and is now with whoever he cheated with.