It’s a beautiful Saturday and it was a wasted Saturday for me. There were tentative plans for Mike to come over. He initially suggested 10:30 AM and I thought that was too early. I was not sure if I was going to do a bike ride, the first of the year, but the forecast was saying it was going to rain, so I decided not to. I mentioned an afternoon visit would be good, and that seemed to be the plan.

But Mike can sometimes be a gauzy man on occasion, and today, despite the sun being out and beaming, shade was provided by the resident of 62 Jewett St. I don’t believe the story he told me this afternoon, a co-worker asked him for his help in moving at the last minute.

Mike has told me in the past how much he doesn’t like his co-workers. This particular co-worker was new, so a relative stranger asked him to help move her belongings, and he did just that. Someone like me, who isn’t a relative stranger, was left twisting in the wind. And it was annoying before he told me his tale, and when I did hear the tale I was pissed off.

According to the opaque handyman, it was so last minute he was unable to find the time to call or text, so the day’s plan was not going to happen. He did find the time to respond to a photo I sent to him on social media. That was around 11:30. Mike didn’t call until hours later, saying he didn’t have the time to tell me, though 11:30 was time enough to respond to my photo of Johnny Rockets.

I am astounded at how Mike has taken such a place in my life. Perhaps he is filling the void that Juan left when he departed his mortal coil. He’s no Juan, though, just as Juan is no Mike Handy.

We just had a phone call. A couple of phone calls actually. He hung up angrily when I told him to figure out what I had just brought up, how he doesn’t even meet me halfway when things are done for him. I was content to let it go but me being me, called him and got his voice mail. I called again and left a voice mail. Then called one more time and he actually picked up.

I told him how I am not even myself sometimes when he’s over. He doesn’t like to be around weed when it’s being smoked, and I do love to smoke weed. So to avoid Mike being uncomfortable, I actually go into the kitchen to smoke a bowl while he sits on the couch looking at his phone while the TV show or movie that he requested plays on the screen in the TV room.

Occasionally, when we’ve had words, he’s annoyed by the fact that I am passionate, or as Mike calls it, being emotional. I don’t think that it’s a bad thing being emotional but there may be a bravado that Mike has and when he sees that bravado in other men like Mike, he doesn’t like it. It seems Mike’s emotions are buried and mine float to the surface quite easily. And when they do Mike doesn’t like it or know how to deal with it. So the past few times I’ve been distant rather than engaging which will bring up emotions. Distance keeps the emotions at bay.

Mike has been through a lot, and I understand that. We’re both high school graduates, and I didn’t have the obstacles that he has had in his life. There is also the unmentionable journey that he had experienced that I do not bring up. A major setback.

And there is also the fact that I have benefited from my pigmentation, whereas his pigmentation is a problem for some people in life, and those who have authority over the people with the same skin color…

I like to think that things have gotten better regarding the day’s events or lack thereof. Time will tell. He’s still welcome here, but who knows? He has his online followers, and here in Hoboken, he merely has two grown men who want the best for him. Will he meet me halfway?

Every now and then in the past when I would see a graduate on the street and they’re in cap and gown and I would say ‘congratulations’ and they would be thankful…now I’m in the midst of graduation season and I’m on the edges of the NYU complex for the past couple of days I’ve seen nothing but graduates and I haven’t congratulated any of them, But I have heard other people do the same. So someone is picking up the slack that I’m dropping.

It’s Thursday, I’ve just had my meeting a few hours ago where I had to be an active participant, and I’m fairly certain I did well. I opened with a joke, which went over well, and my whole time speaking was probably no more than 3 minutes, which is fine by me.

I am currently walking down West 11th Street of which I do not recall the last time I walked down West 11th Street. My manager Mark, said he was going to Chick-fil-A for lunch and sort of knew how I felt about that, and I told him he was free to do whatever he’d like, and then I made a joke about silently judging him.

Hopefully, he realized it was a joke because it was. Mark made a comment about a coworker going to Starbucks, apparently as a boycott of Starbucks because Starbucks is pro-Israel. I joked that I go to Dunkin Donuts for my coffee, which seems to be pro Hamas, and I’m only saying that because of the women who work there while wearing a hijab. In this current climate of ultra sensitivity that could get me into trouble or even disappeared, who knows?

I seem to be doing all right at the job, I do not wake up with the apprehension that I’ve used to have with the previous gig. I am just wandering around in the part of Greenwich village where all the streets meander and weave into one another and street signs are not easily recognized.

Coming up is an intersection, and I think I will pass through it and at the next block make it right turn who knows where it will lead me to. I just look past the Art Bar which I hadn’t been to since the ’80s, after attending some event way back when.

And now I am walking on Horatio Street segueing into 13th Street, heading back to the office. It is quite humid out. I was just in a magazine store, and it was incredibly humid in there. I’ve just passed by the Center, and the last time I was here was for a job fair. I do not remember when that happened, but I do remember that nothing came of it.

The sky was blue for a few minutes earlier, it was nice, and I had hoped that it would be that way as I headed home tonight, but now it’s back to the gray, white clouds hovering low overhead. Tomorrow is Friday and I am happy about that, but like I said, the job is not stressful. I seem to be doing a good job, and they appreciate me doing the job that I do.

Happy birthday Brian Eno. 77 candles for him. Some time I will post my encounter with Brian Eno.