Helen Pollard Issac. Every time I wash utensils I think of her. 20 plus years ago she complained to me about how her then-husband would never wash the handles of utensils, only the part that actually gets used. I suppose it drove her up the wall.

She occasionally pops up on Blinked In suggestions that I routinely ignore. It’s been another day of trying to figure out who is scamming or fishing with my information which I had to place online. I don’t apply for Remote positions but at least once a day I get a message via email or text thanking me for my interest in the remote position that they are putting forth.

I also received a text from Shelly from Bend NYC thanking me for an application from Indeed. Shelly wants to do a Zoom call tomorrow at 10:00 AM tomorrow and I agreed and am waiting for a confirmation. I texted Shelly about this confirmation and received no response so I am more than ready to ignore this Zoom call.

I seem to get most of these fishers in the morning. The recruiter from the Philippines was seemingly legit, though he seemed sketchy and still does. I was able to get through to XSPS on the phone and they assured me Rafael was an employee.

XSPS continues to let me down, sending me job leads and then eventually withdrawing them. I wish I knew why this is and I do have an idea. It seems that before the pandemic they placed me at a company called Freon, and I had words with Floyd Boyce who was the office attendant honcho.

Floyd reported me and I was soon on the sidewalk with XSPS saying that I did not fit whatever it was they were looking for. It was a shame but everything shut down a month later due to the pandemic. I’m sure Floyd Boyce is still ruling his roost.

Joselita Semen still waddles around 10 Murray Street untouchable to anyone with a ten foot pole though it is well known that Joselita is more interested in 10 inches and not 10 foot poles. Enrique Purgemino still collects cans and sleeps on the office couch 6 days a week and no one bats an eye. To be fair, I am not sure if he’s still alive but he probably is since only the good die young.

Shahabudeena Khan still carries his limp dick which is serviced daily by Ismael Villanueva in exchange for a free lunch which gives his deskmate Donald Chieefa an erection and a chuckle which is suitable since in Donald’s case one thing invariably leads to another.

I asked Roberta Issaci, a former supervisor and even less of a former friend for a lead for a job but it never came. I suppose the late Samantha Winter told her former boss how I chuckled when I heard of Roberta losing her Trinity Church position. Samantha had a look of not believing my reaction. Roberta turned out to be very much a nothing burger with his copy of an art of the deal on his bookshelf, though it is probably the only book Roberta has on her shelf.

Wednesday night, 44°, malaise in the air. Both inside and outside my head unease abounds. I wrote the previous two posts for this here blog earlier in the day. The first day I found myself prepared to write at night only to remember I had written already. Last night I was not affected by a need to post. Today it’s relatively later than Monday or Tuesday.

There was a manic high recently but that seems so long ago. Today despair was on the horizon. I must remember not to be baring my soul to Bill or Mike on the phone. Bill needs to focus on his work and Mike does not know how to handle my mercurial moods and would rather not. I can’t blame him.

Back in the day, hanging out with Julio or Pedro, both knew how to deal with me. But I don’t think I was of the same mindset that I am nowadays. Things really were carefree. I suppose it was life in Weehawken, 30 years ago.

So here I am today. Bill has figured out how to deal with me. When he’s here or when Mike is here, I am fine. I focus on them. Alone time ruins me. I did some walking this afternoon. Considerably colder than the past few days.

Everything is too familiar when walking alone in Hoboken. Mike just takes it all in, commentary and all, whereas Bill and I converse. Mike asks questions when we’re home. He also sees things that Bill & I overlook.

A few weeks ago Bill, Mike and I went to the really big supermarket in town. As usual Bill and I go in different directions with Mike alternating between us and getting his own stuff. This particular day Bill and I had to go to the courtesy counter to fix and overcharge, Bill about 20 feet ahead.

I passed a large, handsome man in sweats. Apparently, Bill or I yelled to each other, saying ‘Babe…’ Mike noticed a look of disdain for the affection we stated on the large, handsome man in sweats. We were oblivious and I secretly thought the large, handsome man in sweats was on the down low. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

So many things to say, so few ears to say them to. That’s a riddle that will confound me years from now, if there are years from now. Things to say to Bill who I know does not want to talk about. Thorny issues. In 2005 I would have posted about it, so fearless I was back then. Today I clutch the pearls at such a thought.

Bill is on his way home and I have a lecture given by Green Gartside of Scritti Politti, on YouTube and casting to my TV playing at the moment. I’ve been sleeping well so that’s something.

I still am astounded that I am 62, born in 62 and stand at 6’2”.It’s a handicap when looking for work these days. Such ageism.

And L’Orange Merde and his ilk are destroying the country.