Nice day today. Finally felt like spring had sprung. Sprung enough for me to forego the overcoat and consider retiring it for the winter. Didn’t hustle again, took my time. No sweat. Nelson Neversweat, that’s me. Had an egg sandwich courtesy of Tony at Smilers. Had a nice short discussion with him about Bob Marley and the state of reggae in general. He laughed hard at my ragamuffin comment.

Walked up to work, listening to Bob Marley’s live version of Want More. Killer kick ass version. Heavy on the balls if you know what I mean. If you don’t, I meant heavy on the bass. And bass is an integral part of reggae music.

It was a nice day to wander around whenever I could, and I did when I had to get some fruit for the office. The temperature was climbing towards sixty. I got back to the office and Helen Devilakos and the PB were waiting for me. This was the follow up meeting to the meeting two weeks ago when we ‘sorted it all out’. The meeting lasted less than three minutes.

Helen: Everything ok?

Me: Yes.

PB: Yes.

Helen: You sure?

Me: Yes we’re cooperating with each other.

PB: Yes, we are.

Helen: Ok. That’s about it then.

A waste of time that allowed Helen to think she’s doing a bang up job as a Human Resources director.

I shrugged it all off. It was meaningless. I continue to be totally apathetic at the office lately. I still do my job and I still do it well, but I really don’t care about how things go. Their loss.

Hung outside a lot with Darrell, a guy who’s doing electrical systems in the building. He usually turns up when I run outside for a smoke. Nice guy. Likes cigars too. We swapped a Padron 5000 for a La Flor Dominicana. I have to say the Padron was in better condition than the La Flor. But he’s a nice guy and I didn’t say anything.

Got through the day when Song called. He and his boyfriend Ray were in Manhattan and were planning on having dinner. They invited Bill and I, but Bill had a wake to attend to in the Bronx. So I went. Ray’s a real nice guy. He and Song seem to compliment each other very well. They are a great couple.

We had dinner at a Thai restaurant on west 48th st. Pongsri Thai Restaurant they call it. Nice place. I was there once before in the nineties when half of it was a gay bar. Now it’s a Thai Restaurant. Funny how that happens. After dinner Song, Ray and I walked through Times Square where I regaled them with stories on how bad Times Square used to be. I told them of my St. Patrick’s Day story about losing my brother in the crowds and how I was the brave little 12 year old making my way through the madness to find brother Brian crying over losing me.

We walked over to the Hippodrome where they gave me a ride back to Hoboken. Quite nice. I told you they were good guys.

Back to work. Stupid Monday. Woke up before the alarm clock. I really hate when that happens. It happened frequently a while ago and I thought all had returned to what could be known as ‘normal’. But no. Not this morning. I even thought it might’ve been Sunday. It wasn’t. Did my morning routine/ritual, only without much hustle. Didn’t really care much you see…

It was a pretty good weekend, now it was back to reality. I ambled on up to Washington Street, waited for a bus since I had seen 2 fly by as I approached. I didn’t care, didn’t curse, I just accepted my fate since I really didn’t have any choice in the matter. Read the New Yorker about some auctioneer at Sotheby’s. It was interesting to read about how other people’s work is to fly over the world and arrange for the sale of very expensive artworks. Me? I ride the bus and the art is wherever I can find it.

It’s like Marcel Duchamp and his Ready-made’s. Art is where you find it sometimes. Yes you can create it, sometimes it’s there already, like a Campbell’s Soup Can or a Brillo Box, sometimes it’s just the way trash falls into a gutter or the arrangement of leaves on a tree or simply graffiti. You just have to keep your eyes and your mind open. Not easy to do sometimes when you just don’t want to see anything at all. But it pays off in spades. Epiphanies abound. And it’s great when it makes you smile or laugh.

I suppose this could be the after effect of going to the galleries with RoDa the other day. The third eye gets opened and you can take it all in. I must remember to get other friends involved in the next jaunt. Perhaps when Annemarie is in the area over the summer we can do some gallery hopping. But given the choice of the beach or a gallery in hot and humid Manhattan, the beach will win out.

As I tried to leave work Song called. It was odd though because I couldn’t hear him, all I could hear was my voice amplified. That was annoying, the amplification. Song could hear me though. I called him back and we plan to have dinner or was it lunch sometime this week before he flies back down under.

Tonight was an evening with Phillip Beansprout. We’re making some progress, and trying to get to the ‘issues’ earlier in the session rather than get all heated to find out, our time is up. We talked about last weeks session and how we are communicating a lot better.

I expressed my desire to have more time with Bill though on the other hand I do encourage him, to drive his buses, go on auditions. You can’t have it both ways, true, but just because I can’t have it doesn’t mean I don’t want it both ways. I would like us to do things together but he’s working all the time, for the betterment of us. It’s a real Catch 22 situation sometimes.

Phillip didn’t seem as exasperated as previous visits, and Bill and I seemed to be in the same wavelength. It ended on an up note and we wound up talking quite a bit about it. Now we are home, eating chicken sandwiches made by yours truly on the George, listening to Laraaji. Nice meditative music produced by Brian Eno years ago. Not quiet new age stuff, but soothing nonetheless. And it goes well with chicken, though the poultry might beg to differ.