The Michael Palin exercise at work once again. I did not write last night as I had forgotten and when I remembered I was too tired and it was too late to do anything. I did have a crazy dream last night.

Joselito Semana the Queen of the Closets was in the World Trade Center Oculus cleaning and started shit once again. Ysmael Villanueva appeared in the dream as non-descript as ever.
At one time I liked Ysmael and suggested he take up modeling as he was relatively handsome despite the acne he suffered from.

He was an eager beaver to be an American citizen and probably voted for L’Orange Merde. He was one of the few social miscreants from the mailroom who would actually say ‘Hi’ when he saw me.

It was a good dream since in the dream I received word that Joselito Semana had died. No, I was not a suspect in my own dream, just very happy to hear the news. But that was then here I am now.

The interview that I had a couple of weeks ago fell by the wayside. I was so sure it was mine but alas, it was not to be. I should have lied and said ‘Yes I do know how to use a floor buffer’ but I answered truthfully. C’est la vie. I always tend to think I got the job.

I never see the other applicants lined up outside, which is because of the scheduling of interviews. Still resumes go out and this 62-year-old chap who thinks he’s 42 years old and will lie saying he’s 50 is tired.

It had been a long day. An online cigar friend, Mike works nearby on the Hoboken Jersey City border. He works in a shelter and thinks I could get a job there. But it is quite a pay cut and I don’t know if I have the meddle to handle the residents of a shelter.

Mike’s tales aren’t particularly enticing. Mike is nice, handsome, and an interesting character. Does he have stories or what? You don’t know since I’m not one to kiss and tell.

He’s living in Newark and moving to Jersey City and looks forward to having me over for cigars and chats. In-person chats since online chats are usually focused on one thing, but as I learned today, the conversation can get quite freewheeling. I look forward myself to hanging out with a new friend.

Bill would like him, I think. But that’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. Bill comes home tomorrow after his time on the road. It was OK I guess, and there were a few hiccups. That’s Bill’s story and not mine and it’s not my place to tell tells out of school. And I don’t kiss and tell.

His schedule tomorrow is pandemonium but he thinks he can handle it and I believe that he shall. I think I will sleep well tonight but will sleep better when he is in bed with me tomorrow night.

Dreamt about being around the campus at Rutgers University. The rooms were filled with secret doorways. A hunt for a bagel shop that was supposed to be famous. My brother Brian appeared and we attempted to fix a bicycle tire which went better in the dream than in real life 52 years ago. It wasn’t that pleasant a dream.

52 years ago Brian and I were on a bike ride. My chain kept falling off. That pissed Brian off. It wasn’t my fault, I was 11 and he was 15. I was an annoying ball and chain that was left with him to watch. He hated it. He did alright but there were moments that were just hell. I’d rather not get into it, but I am happy to say we are friends today.

And today I went for a walk around Jersey City, the Newport area. I enjoyed a cigar as I walked through. I must have been quite a sight. I looked good, I have to say and I never say anything like that.

I was thinking about John Lennon. He was my favorite Beatle. I identified with him the most. He was funny and acerbic. I remember watching the Beatles cartoons and seeing the cartoon version of him squinting his eyes when he was portrayed singing ‘And Your Bird Can Sing’. He had his faults and readily admitted them.

Nowadays the young folk call him a spousal abuser. He admitted that and so did his first wife Cynthia. She said he slapped her once and immediately apologized. Cynthia said it was the only time that happened. But all it takes is a slap and despite his admitting it and trying to make himself better they apply the label.

He was a fucked up person from a different time. Not an excuse at all, but for a long time, if a man slapped a woman other people turned their heads and looked the other way. I’d seen a few fights at VFW picnics, drunken veterans beating each other senselessly, sometimes over something a wife did or was perceived as doing.

I discussed it with my sister in our weekly phone call. Grandfather putting Grandmother in the hospital is shitty behavior indeed.

Back to John Lennon. 44 years ago this week, John & Yoko’s last album was released. The last album while John was still alive, Double Fantasy. I didn’t understand it when it came out. I loved it since Lennon was on sale again. It didn’t make sense to me until I got older.

It was mellower than I expected and positive when I was into New Wave and Punk. New Wave is now known as Post Punk by the way. Now when I hear Double Fantasy, I feel wistful. It was definitely a more innocent time, at least for me.

Living in my parent’s house, relatively carefree. My parents are gone, the house was sold and I am anything but carefree. But that’s where I am now and there ain’t nothing I can do about it.