The The with ‘This is the Day’ plays in my head. Friday, December 19th it’s taken forever to get here, and now it’s here.

The effing rainstorm outside and I am at the little fruit stand having to head into the large fruit stand through this major storm it’s not cold but it’s windy and wet umbrellas don’t really help I stopped by the little fruit stand by some time to change my clothes to have something to eat and now that I’ve changed my clothes and had something to eat I’m about to head up to the major food stamps with Yancy, Kimberly, Anise and Lex Luthor

Took the PATH train to Midtown. I am sitting in the conference room, waiting for my fellow drones. There is no sign of anyone, which leads me to believe that perhaps this meeting was cancelled. It wouldn’t make me happy, but it wouldn’t make me sad either, because that means I can get back to my desk.

And I just remembered I did not post last night. I was at my coworkers’ soiree at a pub in midtown, around the block from the major hive, had one kind of Guinness and three chicken tenders, and was out within an hour and home shortly after that. I just hung up with Bill and watched The Man Who Fell to Earth. Watching the Spaceman, I totally spaced out.

3 minutes to Showtime, don’t know what’s going on.

I suppose that the easy-going days at a job around the holidays are long gone. I do think back to those HBJ days when a lot of employees were basically drunk that final afternoon before the holiday. And then afterward, they would head off to a pub like the Mousetrap and continue their swim to oblivion.

One particular memory is of me heading up to the Garden State Plaza to buy my records. Hall & Oates’ X-Static sticks out in my head, specifically the song IntraVino. I walked past the MouseTrap and poked my head in.

They were still 3 sheets to the wind on my return, and I got a ride home from Gary Pless, who was most certainly blotto and drove down the wrong way of the one way street that used to be Riverview Ave.

He did get home, and as far as I know, no one was hurt. It was 1979, so 46 years ago. Crazy. I was 17 in December 1979, so I more than likely had a driver’s license but perhaps no car. It was a Friday night, so my parents were more than likely having drinks at the VFW. Everyone drank and drove, and it was no big deal. The last work day was Friday, December 21.

Now I am relatively sober. It has stopped raining a few hours ago, and the temperatures will be dropping quite soon. I walked around a bit during my lunch break, over to Fourth Avenue, across from where Farfetched used to be, so I could drop off a Christmas card for Rita since she sent one to Bill and me.

Running down the clock. 90 minutes left more or less. I just want to go home and chill. Jimmy Chile reportedly has a fatty that is supposed to do my head in. That was the plan yesterday. Today, being a new day, might have a different outcome, though that is not how Jimmy Chile operates.

I have to confess I am disappointed with Jimmy Chile. He did talk up a good talk about having some Dynamite weed that was going to melt my face. They brought it up yesterday, and we’re going to do it today, but he left without it, and I think it’s rude to bring something up that was promised that was not delivered, especially when it comes to substances like that.

So I’m looking home with disappointment, but at least it’s not raining, and I’m getting my own shit anyway.