Category Archives: Abstract Absurdist Otherness

Read it and weep! I’ve published and now, I be damned! There are some diamonds in this coal. Proceed with cautious carelessness.

Irish Exit

December 11th, 2025, a Thursday. So I am committed to going to this party and have to figure out how to fill two hours between me leaving the office and the start of the party.

That’s my biggest dilemma; other than that, everything seems to be okay. Mike asked me to call him last night before I went to bed, and so I did, and of course, I got his voicemail because he never answers his phone if he’s shooting videos or photographs

I’m in no rush to call him, and I have not, in fact, I have my phone on do not disturb, so even if he calls me, he cannot get through. It’s just been a slow, cold day, and time is moving quietly.

I did send a text about an hour ago to Mike, to which he has not responded, which is fine with me I do not know if he is coming over tonight.

There is a plan to get halal food for lunch, so I will probably do that after I visit the local cigar shop to buy a cigar to smoke on my way to the party. My plan is to finish work at 5:00, fart around here until 6:00 p.m., and then walk up to 53rd Street, which is basically about 40 blocks.

It was a plan for Mike to come over tonight, but I have no idea where that plan stands. He’s not communicating with me, and I communicated at 10:45 last night.

Are these little games that we’re playing? Am I being petty? I do know I’m very much depressed. And don’t know how to get out of it. I slept very well last night, went to bed around 10:45, and woke up before the alarm clock.

So the fruit stand holiday event is where I expected it to be, where the new music seminar was held in the 90s, where I had a Meetup with a suit and cigar guy in the early 2000s at 53rd Street and 7th Avenue

My current plan is to walk up, taking my time, up Fifth Avenue, enjoying us ago and perhaps a free world that I got for free from the local dispensary in Hoboken.

There is quite a malaise in my head just now, thinking of how I used to walk up from Farfetched on Fourth Avenue up to the Port Authority bus terminal, where I would enjoy a cigar and a smoke.

It was usually on a Saturday or Sunday night, and I’d walk up through Madison Square Park area, and the place would be deserted, and I very much enjoyed it nowadays, it’s crowded with young somethings doing whatever it is they do.

But that was then, this is now, and if Lois and Susan can get over what happened to Farfetched and I certainly can as well. I just don’t know what it is, some sadness, some depression, some confusion, some dread (existential).

I’m sure a lot of it has to do with Bill not being around, and the latest development is my lack of interest in anyone else sexually, including Shorty. Shorty doesn’t know that yet. He has not reached out to their phone, just texted me a picture of himself, so I’ll be a cigar in a blue robe and a dirty jock, which turns on a lot of guys but not me.

If he comes over tonight, that would be fine, although I doubt I will be awake for much of it. Without communication, nothing is planned, and if nothing is planned, nothing could get done. He claims he’s looking forward to coming over, it’s just a claim, and it was in a text, so who knows?

Anise, Marcus, and a few coworkers are meeting at a bar for drinks before the event, and I’m not much of a drinker, so I’m going to pass and focus on my Irish exit.

I went to the fruit stand party, and it was nice. The Irish exit worked. Home before 9 PM. WTF?

Thursday 12.4.2025

1978 Barbara Williams driving home from the book Warehouse, it’s nighttime time, it’s winter, Toto is playing Hold the Line

Or else we’re listening to Steve Martin, a wild and crazy guy. It was an interesting time 47 years ago.
Barbara was one of my first friends, and we were friends for a while, at least I thought so. She outgrew me, and I went up hanging out with her little brother, Scott.

But a few years later, we reconnected, working for the same book company and the same warehouse in Saddle Brook. And she was driving, so she’d give me a ride home at the end of the day, around 6:00 or 7:15 p.m.

I was definitely aware of my sexuality and was soon to cross paths with her father, Edward L, who was a security cop at the Garden State Plaza.

One night, when he was driving out the men in the men’s room who were spending much too much time masturbating in the stalls, I was one of those men, and he looked me in the eye as I tried to look askance and walk by.

I’m sure he told his family who he was separated from to not have anything to do with me. But I’m fairly certain that was a few years later, after Barbara was driving me home after work.

Don’t know why that popped into my head, probably because I heard Toto singing Hold the Line somewhere.

I last saw Barbara at my brother’s wake in 2019. She seemed taken aback at my enthusiasm for seeing her, telling her she was my first friend. I don’t think she was impressed. Perhaps she was more embarrassed than anything

For the longest time, I thought the Williams family was so cool and had it all together, but I’m closer inspection, they were in worse shape than my family. Sad stories.

Parents divorced, just strangeness abounds, so I hung out there quite a bit growing up, I can still see their house inside out.

I am presently at my desk listening to David Bowie and Young Americans. My brother Frank gave me the cassette in 1975, and I was only interested in the title song and the hit single Fame.

The title song was the first song on the cassette, and the hit single was the last song on the cassette. Those were the only things I played so much that the tape folded upon itself, and so, except for those two songs, everything else was played backwards on cassette.

It’s not my favorite David Bowie record, though it is the first.
My former roommate William gave me a copy of the CD in the ’90s, and that’s how it’s been digitized in my streaming service.

Right now, David Bowie’s Station to Station is playing, which is a preferable album. I believe that between Young Americans and Station to Station, David released his greatest hits, ChangesOneBowie.

The dilemma of eating when it’s lunch time or eating when I am hungry goes on, though it is not much of a dilemma, actually. I have a banana leftover from yesterday, which I will probably leave later on this afternoon.

My lunch break will entail walking down to 8th Street from 16th Street and going to the UPS store to drop off my good and faithful servant, pixel 6A.

Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Don’t Stop’ is playing in my head, but I do feel obligated to use Toto’s Hold the Line as the title of this post

Puravida Miami

So I walked around the village at lunch time trying to get things done like dropping off the good and faithful servant to be returned back from whence it came and as I was walking I was struck by how hungry I was I knew I had a banana and I had some other snacks and I figured that would get me through the afternoon but even though I ate those items I was remarkably hungry even afterwards so much so it felt there was a hollowness inside of me.

I had some lackluster chicken. It was a nearby restaurant that was good the first time, but each successive visit has left me wanting. The rest of the day was alright. Passable at best.

For some reason WordPress is not posting the photos that I have uploaded. They exist.