It’s technically hump day, known to most everyone as Wednesday. Another dark day, waking up in near total darkness with Bill in silhouette, getting ready to go to work. I wandered into the shower and did my thing, had some cereal and coffee and was soon out the door myself, listening to Juan’s last cd collection and digging it very much. Once again I was able to get a seat on the Path train with no blind pregnant women to give me bad vibes. I sat and read the New Yorker, looking for some humor but all I could find was an article on Arlen Specter and that wasn’t funny at all.

Got an email from Jenn about how her father had surgery and she was going to be in about a half hour late. That was fine, but Mark who used to be cool was acting like a jerk since there wasn’t any whole milk only skim. He even sent me a bitchy email about it, insisting that I do something about it so it doesn’t happen again next week. Next week I won’t be working there so does he really think I give a shit? So I went out.

I walked down Houston over to MacDougal where I saw Patti Smith leaving her apartment building. I didn’t say anything, though I did know she lived on MacDougal and figured it would be in this lower part of the street. It was nice to know where to send a holiday card. I thought about telling her how much I enjoy her blog through Columbia/Sony Records but I had to buy milk and she was gone by the time I thought of it. I doubt Patti would remember me from years ago, giving her and her band their per diem from Arista Records.

After the milk run I was out of the office running around the Village purchasing last minute items for the presents to give to the underprivileged in the Bronx. It was pissing rain and it was a pain in the ass but I also was able to squeeze in a brief visit to Farfetched, saying hello to Sharon and Lois and popped into Tower Records which is rapidly going under. Lot’s of bare bones to pick over and picked out Teddy Thompson ‘Separate Ways’ for $5.10 and Soft Cell ‘Non Stop Erotic Cabaret’ with three versions of ‘Tainted Love’ including a dub! Schwing!

Best Buy on Broadway and Bleecker said they had the clock radio that was requested by the underprivileged and when I got there, they didn’t. SO I hopped on a subway to 23rd Street where they actually did have it. I hopped onto the subway and made it back to the office. Then it was off to the Bronx with the courier service to wrap the presents. I instilled a crumb of paranoia into Donna, the de facto office manager (who everyone is asking me if she’s pregnant) and she insisted that I take a ride to the Bronx. Big and scary to just about everyone in the office, to me it was just another borough.

Unfortunately there was a lot of traffic since it was raining most everyone was traveling above ground in an automobile, add the fact that the van driven by Marcus had commercial plates, severely restricting travel. Marcus and his girlfriend Shauna, were both from Haiti and a lot of fun to travel with. Marcus and I agreed that smoking jazz cigarettes is a very good thing and I immediately regretted not having any on my person.
We nearly got lost in the South Bronx, but having cell phones made all the difference. We dropped off the goods at 285 East 171st Street, off Morris Avenue and soon we were slowly heading back into the canyons of midtown Manhattan. I was tired when I got back to the office and I distributed the mail and headed home, still tired.

What comes before Part B? Partay!

It’s Tuesday and man is it creeping to hump day, though since I was told that Thursday is going to be my last day while getting paid for Friday, so hump day might have occurred around 3:47PM. It was a crawling and appalling day. The usual drill first, wake up, darkness, shower, coffee, cereal, seeing Bill of to work and finally me off to work. It wasn’t too cold this morning as I played Gang of Four, ‘Entertainment’ walking to the Path train. Scored another seat on the train, things are looking up. Taking advantage of pregnant women who have to stand works every time. And yes, I’m being facetious.

She wasn’t pregnant. She was blind. She didn’t know there was an empty seat. I politely ignored all the angry, disgusted stares from my fellow passengers and sat there reading the New Yorker. I’m two weeks behind and I need to catch up. I did wish there was an edition in Braille so that the blind woman hugging the pole in front of me could enjoy the latest piece by David Sedaris. It was quite funny. All that was missing was a song by Wynton Marsalis. He has such a great voice.

Work was drudgery and I occasionally wrestled with fear and guilt. Fear about going to a new job, and guilt about leaving this job. The guilt passed like gas after a pound of broccoli. There was the usual operations meeting, it being a Tuesday afternoon and all. Since everyone knew I was leaving there were a few questions and the oddest thing would happen. Whenever I would answer their questions they would talk over me and drown me out. Mark who used to be ‘cool’ was question why I was ordering so many supplies and I had to explain to him that it so they wouldn’t be caught short after I left.

He couldn’t wrap his brain around that and I had to break it down even more. Eventually I got through to him and everyone else but it certainly wasn’t easy. I am trying to leave McMann and Tate with no hard feelings which is awfully big of me. There are a few people that I will miss, but the job is way too stressful for me to stay. And the lack of coherence doesn’t help at all. I kept on keeping on, doing my job with one eye on the clock and the other eye on the door.

McMann and Tate’s Holiday party is Thursday and I’ve been very ambivalent about the whole thing. One thing is that it starts at 8:00 at a gallery on Broadway. I get out of work at 5:30, so I’d be left hanging around for 2 and a half hours. The other part is that it has a James Bond, Casino Royale theme so the guys have to dress like James Bond characters and the women have to dress like high priced call girls. Which for most of them isn’t too far a stretch. It would be weird for me to go.

What do the reader(s) think. I’d like your input. No, really I would. Please let me know if you think I should go to the party. Post a comment, damn it. Why am I the one doing all the writing?