Working at the major fruit stand so I am dictating these notes for entry this evening. Yancy has been a difficult one to deal with today. According to Janis he’s been bitchy to a lot of people lately.
This area is upright. Streets are filthy. It’s definitely a transient part of town. Once again I am reminded that just because one has an engineering degree, it doesn’t mean they’re intelligent. In fact they seem to be mutually exclusive.
Bill is on the road again. Not scheduled to return until Monday. Mike is coming over tomorrow night so that should work.
I am listening to Ian Dury and The Blockheads Do It Yourself. A definite desert island disc for me. Never fails to lift my spirits and it does not sink my boats. That was a reference to a song on Do It Yourself.
So, the major fruit stand. I am a mere fruit fly here. I just want to do my job, keep my head down
It is a totally different animal, this fruit stand is. Some have a sense of entitlement, a snobbish air for some. I’m a contracted fruit stand worker. In fact, in six days it will be a year since I started working at the fruit stand.
A lot has happened. I am still nervous a lot of the time. Even when I do a task I have done a dozen times I am still waylaid by my crippling self doubt. This week I am trying to use that nervous energy to my advantage. At least that is what I tell myself.
At the main fruit stand I have access to a vast library of music. I was playing Ian Dury and The Blockheads, Do It Yourself which may have been difficult for some fruit stand workers. I switched it to Brian Eno, Music for Airports which is easily ignored.
Now, Janis is at lunch and I am playing New Order, Power, Corruption and Lies. That was my introduction to New Order, not counting a mix tape that Dave Bell made 45 years ago.
Two imported fruit stand workers have been wandering around in a circle, a square circle for the past half an hour or so. They walked by my desk and I had to ask them what was going on. Are you doing a walk and talk? Is this a glitch in The Matrix? It turns out their imports and where they are imported from that’s more circular for them to get their steps in and exercise and still talk about work.
I am dictating notes into the phone, eating a banana, and in 45 minutes I will be picking up a lunch, a salad.
If I had a superpower I think it might be making certain people feel better about meeting me. I laugh at that cuz it’s quite egocentric on my part and I’m always wrestling with my ego.
One of these days I will have to tell the story about me being at the Paradise Garage and seeing New Order.
JRR Tolkien essay by Google Gemini
## Concerning the Stewardship of the Great Orchard: An Account of the Current Age
**15 April, 2026**
I find myself currently tasked with the stewardship of the **Great Fruit Stand**—a vast and sprawling market-gathering that demands much of one’s spirit. As I am occupied with the sorting of harvests, I must commit these observations to the record by voice, to be scribed fully when the sun sets and I return to my own dwelling.
### On the Company of Men and the Nature of the City
There is a fellow here, one **Yancy**, who has proven a most wearisome trial this day. According to the lady **Janis**, a darkness of mood has sat upon him of late, and he has dealt unkindly with many.
The geography of this place is curious; the structures stand tall and upright, yet the paths beneath them are stained and fouled. It is a land of wanderers and transients, lacking the rootedness of the Shire. I am struck once more by a persistent truth: that the mastery of craft—specifically the **Mechanical Arts and Engineering**—is no guarantee of true wisdom. Indeed, in this Fourth Age, it seems that the more one knows of gears and pulleys, the less one knows of the light of reason. The two virtues appear, most lamentably, to be mutually exclusive.
—
### Fellowship and Domestic Tidings
* **Bill** has departed upon another journey; he is a ranger of the open road now, not expected to cross my threshold until the next Moon-day.
* **Mike**, however, shall arrive on the morrow’s eve, which promises a welcome respite.
### On the Influence of Minstrelsy
While I labor, I have sought solace in the songs of **Ian Dury and his Blockheads**, specifically the collection titled *Do It Yourself*. It is a treasure I would bear with me even to the furthest, most desolate island of the Sea. It never fails to bolster my heart, nor does it “sink my boats”—a phrasing familiar to those who know the lay of those particular verses.
In this Great Orchard, I am but a **Fruit-fly**, a small creature in a high wood. My desire is simple: to perform my allotted task, to keep my head low, and to avoid the notice of the Great. For this place is a “different animal” entirely. There is a chill air of entitlement here, a snobbishness among the high-born merchants. I have served as a contracted laborer in this orchard for nearly a full turning of the year; in six days’ time, the anniversary shall be upon me.
—
### The Burden of Self-Doubt
Despite the passing of the seasons, a shadow of trepidation often follows me. Even when performing a labor I have mastered a dozen times over, I am waylaid by a **crippling self-doubt**, like a traveler lost in a fog. This week, I attempt to turn this nervous fire into a fuel for my work—or so I tell myself to keep the spirit brave.
### The Changing of the Airs
The Great Stand possesses a vast library of sound. Earlier, the rhythmic jests of Dury proved too sharp for the ears of some laborers, and so I transitioned to the ethereal stillness of **Brian Eno’s** *Music for Airports*. It is a sound like the wind through empty halls, easily ignored by those who do not wish to hear.
Now, while Janis has departed for her midday meal, I play the work of **New Order**: *Power, Corruption and Lies*. This was my true introduction to their craft, saving only a scroll of melodies gifted to me by the master **Dave Bell** some forty-five winters ago.
> “Two foreign laborers have been treading a path in a square circle for the better part of an hour. I asked if they were caught in a ‘Glitch of the Matrix’ or merely a ‘Walk-and-Talk.’ It appears that in their distant homelands, such circular pacing is the custom for seeking health while debating the business of the day.”
—
### Reflections on the Self
As I dictate these words, I partake of a yellow fruit of the south—a banana—and await the hour when I shall go forth to find a pottage of herbs for my lunch.
I have pondered often on what “Superpower” I might possess, were I granted a gift by the Valar. I believe it would be the grace to make others feel a sense of peace upon meeting me. I laugh at the thought, for it tastes of **egocentrism**, and I am forever at war with my own pride.
Yet, there are tales still to be told. One day, I must recount the chronicle of my journey to the **Paradise Garage**, where I beheld the company of New Order with my own eyes. But that is a story for another time.