Uncertain Smile The The
Book of Angels Jim White
Ain’t going to take it, Tom Robinson Band

Saturday and Sunday, while walking down Madison Street from the really big supermarket, I noticed about a dozen Robins. Usually, it’s a big thing you make a wish when you see the first one of the spring, but here we are in winter, and I’ve seen at least a dozen or maybe half a dozen on Madison Street

It is Tuesday, January 20th, 2026, back at work after a 3-day weekend. It was a boring three-day weekend, and yesterday, Monday, Martin Luther King Day, it all came together, not necessarily in a good way but in a necessary way.

Mike was supposed to come over and hang out, and of course, something came up that prevented that from happening. It’s always something with his parole officer, that’s the standard excuse, but the latest one was that his front door was broken, so he’s been stuck in the apartment all weekend.

I expressed my disappointment and suggested I come over, but he never responded to that, and then later, when we texted, he said he’s the one who invited me over, and I turned it down, which is not true at all. I think I was getting played, and I still think I’m getting played.

And then I had a talk with Bill about something that happened 15 years ago. Basically, we have a relationship which 98% works fine, 2% does not work, and we get through it. Mike calls it spousal abuse. I said it was more like neglect. Bill mentioned that we will never be in that situation again, which was an ear opener, if not an eye opener.

I was a selfish lover, basically just took care of my own needs and not anyone else’s, which is not a good way to be.

That’s how I had been most of my life. My chickens have come home to roost. I mean, they did come back 15 years ago, and here they made another appearance.

I felt better about it yesterday, talking with Bill today, not so much, but I have smoldering embers to deal with. Both Mike and Bill had suggested that I go elsewhere to find physical satisfaction.

But I am wary. I am 63 years old. I have dodged many bullets in the past, and I don’t want to get in the firing range again, even though they seem to be suggesting that’s what I do.

I think going to the land of the solo sexual is where I best belong. I take care of things myself takes about 15 minutes, no need for rejection or disease control. Perhaps I will also fold into myself and reduce communications with Bill and Mike on matters that concern me.
I certainly don’t want to hear about Mike’s beloved and their plans anymore, even though I will keep hearing about them and cannot actually tell him to stop.

And then there is Bill’s endless spiel, which goes on and on and never stops unfolding. I know I’m not perfect, I’m going to be totally reminding myself that I’m not. They’re also fond of telling me that I keep forgetting things, which may be so.

Perhaps it’s the early onslaught of Alzheimer’s disease, I wouldn’t know, maybe somebody told me that, and I forgot about it. Things were easier prior to November 2024
Nowadays they are complicated and difficult to get through, perhaps ignorance is bliss, but I was very blissful in 2024, although still unhappy, dealing with the monkeys and assholes Barry McGarry

My cousin Ginger died on Sunday. Her service is on Friday, and I cannot attend. That may have played a part in my state of mind over the past two days, although when I brought it up to Bill, he asked if I was really that close to her, and I had to admit I was not, so that negates anything that I might have been feeling, according to Bill

And now names from the past; today’s names are Carlos Baez, Florence Ligouri, and Diane Maldonado.

Carlos was a forklift driver from the Bronx working in Saddle Brook who was having an affair with Florence Liguori. And went on for a number of years, everybody knew about it, they weren’t hiding anything. Florence adored Barbra Streisand, and that’s why she answered my question, because I looked up something about Barbra Streisand today.

Things cooled between Carlos and Florence when Diane Maldonado arrived on the scene. Whereas Florence worked in the post office shipping department of the book Warehouse in Saddle Brook, Diane Maldonado was currently installed at the offices on the other side of the building.

Florence was dropped, and Diane was embraced, crushing Florence in the process. Carlos was one of the people who, when he found out that I was gay, was fully disgusted and didn’t have anything to do with me.

Carlos was also an ex-junkie, and according to William Burroughs, there’s no such thing. Once a junkie, always a junkie.

Carlos is more than likely dead and left a wife and kids in the Bronx for a couple of white chicks in North Jersey. He was a scumbag, attempted to take a higher moral ground, and judged me because I was gay.