For your eyes only

A Sheena Easton James Bond song that popped into my head as I was at the urinal.

Guy at PATH station needed a cigarette. He had the butt in his mouth. He got in the same car as me and various other commuters including a Mom taking her son to school. He put his backpack on the seat and walked away.

One guy sitting across from me was alarmed and walked out. I was going to do the same. and when I got up I saw the cigarette guy between cars having an illicit puff in the station. I told the mom what was going on, and she was relieved. Just an idiot, not a terrorist.

Broken escalator at 33rd Street. I followed the lead of a few commuters and pushed past the barricades at the top and bottom of the out of service escalator.

At lunch, sitting in a puddle at lunchtime in the concrete park. It was next to a few puddles and looked dry but I found out it wasn’t when I sat there for a second. And a second is all it took.

I just remembered that I had shot a video in the 1980s of a Polish rock band in NYC. I was thinking they were called Lady Pink but that might be wrong. Lady Pink is a Japanese girl group, Lady Pank was the band from Poland.

Some parks in Hoboken have little boxes with books for people to read small lending library and I just peeked and saw Edith Hamilton’s book on mythology something I probably read 40 years ago or longer and almost took it and then realized that somebody else should have it

It’s been a busy morning and it’s only been about an hour. Visitors came by to check in on a room they had booked in the belly of the fruit stand. I tried to grant them access but couldn’t. They did it themselves and now their guests trickle in 30 minutes early.

Their host seems nice enough. Then Yancy had me running around along side him, moving furniture and introducing me to lobby security in the belly of the fruit stand.
est are expected along with an artist. That means I go to the lobby and meet and greet and escort them to where they need to be.

I was just having a jelly donut from Dunkin Donuts. I remembered that there was a Dunkin Donuts on Essex Street not too far from my house growing up. Mainly I remembered that we were not allowed to go there since junkies we’re known to frequent that spot. Dunkin’ Donuts memory is sort of like Proust’s Madeline?

Because I didn’t respond in my usual manner Mike thinks I’m upset. I am much too busy to be upset with him. He was depressed the other day which was concerning, but then again he is incommunicado at night. I don’t sit around wringing my hands, I move on and get ready for bed.

And today is much busier than yesterday. Fewer people in the office for sure. Today they are all in and brought guests with them. I try to accommodate and I think they’re more or less satisfied.

Back in the day my friend Miriam told me I was able to do something that a lot of people can’t do. I asked her what that was and she said I can talk to anyone. And it’s true and with my position at the fruit stand and in the belly I talked to everyone and I’m good at it so I guess Miriam was right