It is a beautiful Tuesday in October. Today is the twentieth. I slept well and woke up feeling good. I decided to take a mental health day. Nothing major, I went back to bed and slept a few more hours and I woke up with no guilt. I think a mental health day, once a month could be a good thing.

The next scheduled holiday is in November, Thanksgiving. That is too far away. The days off I had were around my birthday that Friday and Monday around my birthday weekend.

There was a plan for Mike and I to meet at the mall after work. The trains to Hoboken were bound to be packed and my plan is to take the Jersey City train to Newport and walk from there. It’s only a fifteen minute extra walk. The mall where Mike wanted to go is at Newport so that would have worked out nicely.

Since I took the day off I figured we could meet earlier and do whatever Mike wanted to do. Unfortunately his sniffy parole officer called and told Mike that one of the parole officer’s clients was murdered and so all of the parole officer’s clients needed to be in lock down. This is not the first time this has happened, especially when plans are made.

Mike was upset about this, but like I said, it’s not the first time. Mike has to play the sniffy parole officer or other parole officer’s game until April 2028. I made some coffee and soon headed out to the supermarket to buy items I neglected to buy over the weekend as well as items that I found that I needed.

It was a nice walk, just a beautiful autumn day and I do not enjoy autumn. I don’t like winter either, now that I have gotten older. I do enjoy those times around the Christmas holidays which are generally filled with good cheer and tidings. After that it gets bleak, once in the settled new year. I’ve been doing this for quite some time.

Work has been good, no complaints. I don’t even mind having to go to the belly of the fruit stand. I’ve gotten used to it and I guess I am doing a good job. I haven’t heard otherwise but that is no sure sign.

I just got off the phone with Mike. An hour long phone call, broken up by a disconnect. I didn’t hang up and he didn’t hang up but the universe had heard enough I reckon. He loves asking me questions about work at the fruit stand and bold faced names I had encountered. It’s all true, I have no need to lie.

I’m sometimes dumbfounded by the fact that I met Mick Jones from the Clash outside the Waldorf Astoria, how I worked with Brian Eno which was a topic I was able to bring up when working with David Bowie a year later. Mike knew who David Bowie was, and he had heard of the Clash but he had no idea who Brian Eno was or what Brian Eno means to me.