At work listening to The Smiths for some reason, perhaps it’s because I’m reading an old issue of Mojo magazine that featured the Smiths on the cover.
Then I drifted back to a memory of August 1977, when I was on vacation with my mom and dad, which was probably the last time I was on vacation with them. It was just the three of us, and we went to Jackson, New Jersey, and stayed with my father’s friends, the Galatoas. My burgeoning sexuality has me focused on one of the Gallatoa’s sons and his scrotum that was hanging out of his terry cloth gym shorts. I got a lot of mileage out of that one.
We also went to Great Adventure, which was in Jackson, New Jersey, and traveled to Smithville, New Jersey, where we saw David Brenner and Florence Henderson perform on August 7th. Three days later, it was announced that David Berkowitz was arrested for the Son of Sam killings.
I slept incredibly well last night. Although I went to bed around 9:40, I don’t think I slept until 10:30, but still, whatever I could get was needed, and I used it wisely, waking me up a few minutes before the alarm clock.
I have updated my phone, and it seems that AI or artificial intelligence is having more of a say in what I do, and the results of my requests are slightly skewed.
At the job I’ve decided to take the path of passive resistance with regards to Marcus who walked through the door and I said good morning he said something that I did not hear him as the door had to be a bit noisy when closing I mentioned that I did not hear what he had to say and he just kept walking so if he wants to be like that that is fine with me. I have dealt with worse people than him, and I probably will at some point later on in life.
Not sure if he would be concerned that there’s anything that I wrote about if he knew about anything that I wrote, but he doesn’t, and he’s blissfully ignorant of this fact.
Mike came over last night and worked with Bill on some documents that he needs to start his job. Since I was quite fatigued, I stayed out of their way. I don’t know the status of the situation, and I’m sure I will find out eventually.
Things have gotten better between Marcus and me. We had a few words which are pleasant enough, smoothing down that troubled road that we seem to be headed towards, so it’s all good, Ninja.
So this morning I got my bagel and I explained to the woman behind the counter that I tipped her way too much the other day not that I was expecting anything out of it because I didn’t get anything out of it but I thought it was funny but I didn’t not take into account let her mastery of the English language isn’t that great so it just sounded like a bunch of words coming out of a white man which is what they were.
It’s not a bad day weather-wise, it’s in the 70° range, which is comfortable. I sat through a few hours of training on the computer, which excused me from a lot of work, but I guess this afternoon I’ll have to get back to the work, and that was a Friday afternoon, and there’s not much work work work work.
Bill is running around somewhere, Mike seems to have gone back to his crib, and I am having my mini cigar on my lunch break. I am presently sitting where I will probably be standing on Sunday, and here comes Mike on the phone, calling from his crib.

via Gemini AI:
Okay, here’s that in the manner of Andy Warhol’s diary:
Thursday, June 26, 2025
Today I’m at the office, and I’m listening to The Smiths. It’s so weird, but then I remember I’m reading this old Mojo magazine with them on the cover. It’s like, everything is connected, but then it’s not, you know?
It made me think about this trip, way back in August of ’77. I was with my mom and dad, probably the last time, just the three of us. We went to Jackson, New Jersey, staying with my dad’s friends, the Galatoas. And there was this son, one of the Galatoa boys, and his… well, his scrotum. It was just, like, hanging out of his terry cloth shorts. I mean, it was really something. I thought about that a lot. Got a lot of mileage out of it.
We went to Great Adventure there, and then to Smithville, New Jersey. We saw David Brenner and Florence Henderson perform on August 7th. And then, three days later, it was all over the news: David Berkowitz was arrested. The Son of Sam. It’s just, like, life.
I slept really well last night. Went to bed around 9:40, but I didn’t actually fall asleep until 10:30. But it was good. I needed it. Woke up just before my alarm. So, good.
My phone updated, and now AI is like, everywhere. It’s like, telling me what to do, and the results are just a little… off. It’s like, who’s really in charge now?
At work, Marcus walked in. I said “Good morning,” and he said something, but I didn’t hear him because the door was so loud. I told him I didn’t hear, and he just kept walking. So I’m just going to do passive resistance. That’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse. He doesn’t know I write about him, which is really just so blissfully ignorant. It’s just so him.
Mike came over last night to work with Bill to work on some documents for Mike’s new job. I was really tired, so I just stayed out of the way. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. It’s like, whatever happens, happens.
Oh, but then, things got better with Marcus. We talked a little, and it was actually nice. So that whole, like, troubled road thing, it’s smoothed out now. So it’s all good. Ninja.
This morning, I got my bagel. I told the woman at the counter that I tipped her too much the other day. I mean, I didn’t expect anything, and I didn’t get anything. But I thought it was funny. But then I realized, her English isn’t so great. So it probably just sounded like, like, words coming out of a white man. Which, I mean, they were.
The weather is nice, in the 70s. It’s comfortable. I sat through hours of computer training today. It meant less work, which is good. But then this afternoon, I’ll have to get back to it. But it’s a Friday afternoon, so there’s really not much work work work work.
Bill is running around somewhere. Mike went back to his crib. And I’m having my mini cigar on my lunch break. I’m sitting where I’ll probably be standing on Sunday. And then, like, Mike calls from his crib. It’s just like, everything happens.