A really hot day. Summer heat. Very hot. I even played Summer in the City by the Lovin’ Spoonful. It was that hot. And then tonight there were some really violent storms. I don’t know karate, but I know crazy. Work has been easy lately. I’m fitting in, still have some Macanudo issues, in fact had to call up Bill to ask him about a shortcut or two. He’s been in the Bronx, attending a wake. I’ve been hanging out at home.

Had the computer turned off due to the heavy electrical storms. I do have to go in early tomorrow and that means in by 7:30. But I admit I got sucked into ER. I watched two ours of the brilliant show, ‘The Office’ and then ER came on. I tried not to watch. But no, something happened blood, hysterics and sex. Usually gets my interest though not all at the same time thankfully.

Mr. and Mrs. Lopez are off doing whatever it is married people do. I wouldn’t know since I can’t get married, yet. Juan is crashing a prom. Hopefully he left the bucket of blood behind.

Felicia has been awfully nice lately, giving me a wide berth to do my job and do my job I do. Also been listening to a lot of music at the desk. Today was heavily into the Atlantic Records collection and then Bjork. Worked for me. I even took some time away from the desk, which is something I hardly ever do lately and actually went outside and ate in a park, though even in the shade it was oppressively hot.

After work I had some errands to run in midtown and run I did with one eye in the sky looking at the oncoming thunderclouds. Made it to the Path thinking it was going to be pouring when I got off in Hoboken. On the train I struck up a conversation with someone who was reading an article about Michael Brecker the Jazz Horn guy. Apparently Michael Brecker is quite ill. Or was. I asked him what magazine he was reading because as I read over his shoulder, my ex –boss’s name.

The Legendary Record Producer. A really nice guy and quite the gentleman. That’s all I’ll say about him, because I am humble. He is too. After producing all these great talents, a mere mention in johnozed.com would could simply make his head swell. So for his sake, and his family’s he shall remain anonymous.

Tomorrow is the return to Philip Beansprout. Bill couldn’t make it last week so he has a lot of catching up to do. It should be interesting. My big plan for the weekend is to get a haircut. I was supposed to help Pedro move to his new place upstate somewhere but him and his woman, Connie did it themselves. Would’ve been good to see him again. I’ve known him almost twenty years.

I don’t know karate, but I know crazy. Word.

A day unlike any other. But then again, aren’t they all? I think the illness I had suffered from yesterday turned out to be an allergy. But it was unlike other allergies I had suffered from before, where I walk down the street and snot running from my head like Niagara Falls, this was more like the Sahara desert. I was dry and not producing any lubricant. Sorry about the graphic.

I slept well, woke up ok, and set about going to work. Not as lopsided as yesterday, feeling alright, not top of my game, but relatively ok. Got to the office, new blood in the water, new people from London, still operating on London time so they are in before me. That’s fine, a bit awkward but bearable. I set about walking sideways doing the thing that it is that I do. Mundane tasks for a reasonable reward.

There were a few hairy moments where I rose above the mess and made everything run smoothly. I was impressed by it. Whether or not anyone else saw what I had done is beyond me. The trick is to get the job done without a hitch, without anyone noticing the job that you are doing, for it is behind the scenes and should go unnoticed by most. I did make a point of telling Felicia that she would be proud of me for what I had done and she said she already was. Sweet.

It was the last day for one of the resident Brits, Zimmerman. Nice guy, reminds me of Dominic Monaghan from the Lord of the Rings and lately, Lost. I had to interact with him the past month and weeks that I had been there, and I admit, I’m a sucker for someone who says, ‘Cheers’ instead of ‘Thanks’. It helps that it’s said by Merry or Charlie. Well it’s back to Swindon for him. Couldn’t hack the US. Homesick I guess. How ling that will last is another story. Perhaps when he gets back to gray Swindon, he’ll miss Technicolor Manhattan. He can always go to London I suppose.

Hell I can always go to London. One of these days I swear. Of course it would probably bring out he music geek in me, which would be more prevalent than naming each daily entry of the blog after a song. Yes, I could see myself photographing the zebra crosswalk outside of Abbey Road Studios. Pass the chicken, the geek is here.

I had a date to see Fay Victor sing at 55 Bar on Christopher Street. I used to work with Fay Victor at Wanker Banker. She sings Jazz, not my favorite type of music, but I reallly dig Fay’s voice and her band. Always turned on to new ideas and concepts when I sit there and listen. Almost like Pete Townshend’s comment about how great rock and roll makes you forget where and what you are. Sometimes when I see Fay sing live, I get that vibe.

The date I had was with Brenda who was a staunch ally at Wanker Banker. She was running late so instead of meeting her by the subway I met her at the bar, where I ran into my old boss, Robert. I like Robert. He’s a good guy and a good boss. Very fair. There were moments when I worked with him that we butted heads but it was always worked out. A fine proponent of the ‘Communicate Early and Often’ school. Which is a good motto and credo.

So the three of us chatted quietly while listening to Fay sing. A good time, great music and very good company. After the first set I had to leave as well as Brenda and Robert. We all walked to Sixth Avenue and got Brenda into a cab. Robert and I walked to the Path. He really is a good guy. He got onto his Journal Square train and I waited for Hoboken.

A beautiful night, walked down Washington Street and ran into Thaylor who is a fantastic woman. I’ve always liked her and her friend who is one of many who’s face I know from McSwells days but never got to know her, or her name. I finally got the name but I as write this it has escaped me. She wrote a book, which was inspiring. The concept of writing a book that is. I haven’t read it so I can’t say that it is inspiring.

That’s it for now. I’m pissed. In the British sense.