“Johnny Two Strikes! And now, the end is queer and so I face the final curtains which are on sale at Canal St Target. At 6’2″ John has met the height requirement. He is a mammal as well as a goofball, and surreptitiously extroverted while playing guitar, though he has been known to be persona non grata which can be an overwhelming advantage. He is a Brother not a Bro.

A Homunculus to some, A Cro-Magnon colossus to others. John considers himself a self-deprecating raconteur of sorts, that is sometimes too cheeky for his own good.

John does not believe in ghosts though they believe in him. He is also known as ‘The Deer in the Headlights’ Not a fan of crowds, cowards nor cowardice but does enjoy a cowbell and a murder of crows.

He identifies as Eggman / Walrus and has been known to smoke cigars. John has been with Bill Vila for nearly 24 years, civil union/married for 14 years Not everyone gets a partner in life so he is grateful. Benedición!

Nobody reads these do they?”

This is my Salesforce (SF) bio. I saw it a few months ago and decided to fill it up. It changes from various edits and various moods I may or may not be in. There were digs at people I used to like and a mutual falling out of favor from both parties followed.

I’ve gone so far as to consider throwing out certain items since I know the other person tends to wear that outdated brand from time to time. At least mine is an undergarment that is never seen by anyone besides Bill and he doesn’t really look these days.

When my father would come home from work, he was generally in a suit & tie and would change out of those clothes when he got home. I do the same though I usually wear blue jeans. Then I sit around in my underwear. It IS the summer and we’re on the top floor where the heat rises and stops. We do get a breeze every now and then so there’s that.

Now Bill is off to bed, where he is out cold as soon as his head hits the pillow. And he uses AMSR (I think) to guide him along. Sometimes I can hear it when I go to sleep an hour or so later.

Rachel Maddow is on TV right now. She’s come a long way, baby. I remember when she would pop up every now and then on the Keith Olbermann show, now she’s a powerhouse on MSNBC. Senior reporter, the jewel in their crown even though she is only on Monday nights and for special events like those conventions.

And I’m writing again though I had just posted earlier tonight. Just had more to say I guess and now I’ve said it. I still don’t know if anyone has noticed new missives have been forthcoming. And I’m fine with not knowing though writing that would make it seem that I actually do care. Well, Bill reads it, or at least Bill knows when I am writing it.

Mondays are a drag, let’s face it. Even if you’re good with them, chances are you’ll run into someone who is not having it. Once again I did not sleep well. I can’t figure it out. I do the correct things beforehand. My routine is just that, routine. But I cannot sink into the arms of Morpheus.

He’s playing hard to get. My eyes close but I only go so deep. Then there are the things that happen in the middle of the night when you hit a certain age and need to get out of bed.

Bill was up and out around 1:00 AM. He also heard the last night of the closing of the radio chapter of WCBS News Radio which shaded his general enthusiasm somewhat.

My day started slowly. I crept through the apartment, reminding myself that I did take a personal time off last week for mental health reasons and this coming Friday is a half day on a holiday weekend, so I could easily do this. I can’t say I was motivated but I did leave the apartment earlier than usual and got to work a little bit after 9:00 AM.

I try to get some of that overtime gravy so anything over 40 hours is time and a half, but with the holiday, inhuman resources does some sleight of hand, and presto, that half day which counts as a full day does not permit such plebian methods as overtime so the early time I put in is all for naught.

Still, I have somewhere to be, with something to do. The usual greyheads roam around, some bright spots do appear. I’ve taken to keeping to myself whenever possible. I was busy most of the time and finished my main tasks a little before noon.

Last night I made the weekend staple, Penne, Pesto, and Chicken. I usually make it on Saturday but there was no time for that. I usually make enough for me, a little bit for Bill as per his request and I take the rest to work on Monday. And I still did that but there was a lot to eat at lunchtime and halfway through, I had my fill.

I could have put it back in the fridge at work, but decided I could give it to a homeless guy I see most days. I give him an orange and a buck usually. I hoped he would be around tonight and he was. I asked if he liked chicken and pasta and he said thank you very much. I also gave him an orange and a buck and he thanked me very much again.

I suppose that at least I know it’s Monday, but for this poor soul, every day could be Monday. I am happy to do what I do. It’s a dollar I wasn’t using and he could probably get more out of it than I could. I used to do that when I worked at Alger.

I’ll have to write about that some other time.