Tuesday. An alright day. Nothing special. Bill was at his folks once again, his dad needing to go to some physical therapy at the Veteran’s Administration hospital once again. I just hung out at home solo, Juan at school, and watched a documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt on PBS. It was good, but not good enough to hold my attention after 11:00. I knew how it ended anyway. She seemed great and so many idiots hated her for doing the things that she did. She was no Hillary Clinton I’ll tell you, though the animosity towards Eleanor is probably on par with Hillary phobia.

No jazz in this apartment last night which of course led to some rather intense dreams. I won’t get into it, but they aren’t the relaxing type of dreaming. Usually punctuated by me sitting upright in bed saying, ‘What the fuck was that?” That happened a few times last night. I woke up at 5:00, then 5:30, then 6:00. I wasn’t distressed since I knew all I would have to do is close my eyes again and I’d be back asleep. That worked until 6:30, when I knew I really had to get out of bed and start my day. That meant making my own coffee since Bill wasn’t around to do it.

That was no problem since I have been making my own coffee since I was 10 years old. And it wasn’t Martinson’s coffee. I used Goya Espresso coffee. Rocket fuel. I’ve been using that for years ever since I lost my jumper cables. I walked up to Washington Street after doing the routine, coffee, cereal, showering. I wore my black Sean John suit since I had plans after work and I wanted to look relatively good. White French cuff shirt, silver Pierre Cardin tie. I did look good. Almost bangin’.

Work was boring once again. And no fish were biting on the resume lines I threw out the past couple of days. Everyone in the office continued wrestling with the new program that all the databases had migrated to. I hadn’t been involved with that so I just surfed the net all day which was relatively fun for the first hour, but there are only so many things you can look up in wikipedia, and reading the International Herald Tribune can wear you down sometimes. SFGate was ok too. I listened to River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner and three Todd Rundgren songs among others.

After work I walked down to Chelsea, puffing on a Padron. I was headed to G Lounge in Chelsea. An online friend, Tim has been after me to attend a gathering of men in suits and ties, hence my wanting to look as good as possible. I wandered around Chelsea not wanting to be the first one there. I wasn’t when I walked in at 7:10. I met some guys that I had chatted with years ago and it was nice to meet them and it seemed they were glad to meet me. But after three Heinekens it was time to go after an hour. I had to come home and write this.

The company was nice but of course the music sucked. Oh that house music. How I hate it so. Now I’m home, Bill is in bed at 9:30 since he sleeps on a sofa bed and didn’t really sleep last night, but he was having difficulty sleeping tonight. I plan to go back to Tim’s gathering again. It was fun to be socializing. I have learned though that as much as I enjoy seeing a guy dressed in a suit and tie, it really doesn’t do anything for me otherwise.

A ghastly Monday, just gray and cold and frozen slush and on top of all that it was a Monday. I didn’t care though. I have something to do and that something is a job. Not the best job but it’s something. The weekend was mellow enough. Hanging out with Juan is always good, and when Bill is around it’s even nicer. Not that anything special happens. Bill works on his laptop, I’m usually in front of the pc and Juan sits on his spot on the couch though I try to get Juan to check his email so I could sit on the couch. It used to work, but Juan caught on and rarely gives up the couch.

Work is a drag though. Bill was a prince and revamped my resume since I no longer have MS Word on the pc, I have open office which is so cutting edge, hardly anyone else has it. Mindy, Patron Saint of Staffing Agencies asked for my resume in bullet points and Bill was able to do all that on his laptop. He really straightened it all up and looks nice. I see so many resumes each day that though it didn’t stand out from those, it does look a lot better than it used to.

Last night Bill and I watched the end of an NCAA game, then we watched an abbreviated edition of 60 Minutes with one of the Marines who slaughtered that family in Iraq, then followed by Simon Cowell, so full of himself. Such a record executive. Thank goodness I never ran into his type when I worked in the music business. Even Clive Davis wasn’t as swollen headed as Cowell, but then again maybe Clive would be if he was on TV several nights a week, always on top of the ratings.

I watched Rome after that, Bill wound up going to sleep midway through. I called up my friend Jane who called me a few months after I called her. She’s always busy, always in the studio or on the road and she’s up in Woodstock so I hardly ever see her anymore. She called while Juan was over and I offered to call back the next day which I did, but only got her answering machine. I hope she wasn’t put off by the fact that I didn’t drop everything to chat with her like I usually do. Or Did.

I’ve also been communicating with John Bruce, another friend from the past. John and I wrote a script over a dozen years ago called ‘This is my Plus One’. I thought it went well and my feelings were confirmed when John called me up a few days later telling me that something I wrote made him cry. In a good way too. That would be great if John and I would be able to get it together and try writing something else. But he’s busy with ‘While You Were Out’ a home decorating show. He also has a design company in Brooklyn, where he lives with his boyfriend. Nice.