Category Archives: the day after yesterday

Myself Clothing

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For another post: I am currently music biz adjacent to the Grammys, 1977 to 1984 New Wave punk rock

It is Tuesday, February 3rd, 2026, nothing too spectacular. I slept very well last night and wanted to continue doing so, but alas, I had to come to work they sort of expect that sort of thing.

Last night watched Jeopardy and then Sherlock with Bill. He went to be,d and I soon followed.

ICE has been spotted in Hoboken and reportedly taken five or six workers and to unmarked vans, perhaps never to be seen again.I expected it to be just a matter of time before the immigration control and enforcement team came in and started doing their dastardly deeds. And now they’re here in Hoboken and Jersey City.

I saw things online about it and made the mistake of reading comments and was distressed to find people actively and outwardly supporting ICE, claiming that they would support law enforcement, and I remarked that they were likely the type of people that would inform the authorities as to where Anne Frank was hiding.

Yeah, shit like that usually gets me fired or banned from social media, so I suppose that’s coming on down the line at some point.

The day often takes a downward turn, but today it started that way, and it’s maintaining a steady descent.

Two interactions with different men as I was going to get my Halal food when I was outside the Blue’s Clues store, or he decided to talk to me about almost being hit by bird shit, and how good luck it is and if I wanted to buy tickets?
The next guy was on 18th Street. I was walking to the halal food who suddenly stopped in front of me and apologized two or three times, saying how sorry he was for stopping. The thing that stands out to me is that I did not say anything to either one, I just gave him the dead-eyed stare

In the office, Marcus is remarkably distant as usual, so it’s not some remarkable after all, it’s very slow, and I’m going to be at the main fruit stand tomorrow. Despite how busy it will be at my fruit stand, it doesn’t really matter since Yancy has his mind made up

While at the really big supermarket in Town with Bill the other day, I bought a pair of gloves. I was seduced by the fact that they can be used when using a smartphone; they had those tips. And yesterday, before leaving the apartment to get away, I had two pairs of gloves in my coat as well as the new pair.

So I grabbed the gloves out of my pocket and left them on the kitchen table when I came home that night. I found three gloves, not four and it was distressing in my mind because I’m an idiot. I don’t think I did accuse bill but I think Bill might have felt it as being accused. It was not my finest hour. And Bill, to his credit, did what he could to help me find a glove. And in the interim, I went online and ordered a new pair of gloves it should be delivered on Friday. The transaction was cancelled due to the fact that my credit card was declined.

For lunch today, I went to the halal cart, and the food was actually very good. When I was walking back to the office with my bag of halal food, I reached into my pocket and felt three gloves, one of them being the glove that I thought I placed on the kitchen table. My belief in my idiocy was reinforced.

I immediately texted Bill and thanked him for giving me so much. His love for me overwhelms my self-loathing. It’s true, and I was reminded of it just an hour ago.

I just got off the phone with Mike and had to explain to him Bill puts up with a lot of my shit, shit that Mike has difficulty dealing with but Bill can deal with it and if you can find somebody that’s willing to put up with your shit in this planet you should hang on to them as long as you can and respect them and support them as they respect and support you.

Mike has placed too much emphasis on the sexual aspects of the relationship, and then there are the things that Bill has just done that make me realize no one else on this planet puts up with my shit. I put up with his shit; he puts up with my shit. It is a well-maintained balance of shit

I thought I was doing well without watching clips of people behaving awfully, and then I find myself watching one that is just not good for me.

And the balance of the universe is maintained. My near lacrimose behavior last night led me to order a new pair of gloves online. They were supposed to be delivered on Friday. Well, as luck would have it, and not have enough money to pay for those gloves which are not needed it since I have found the gloves that I actually do need, and I will keep on me when possible. Although right now I gave those gloves that it was on Saturday to the housekeeper here at the smaller fruit stands, and I have one left glove in my pocket and the other right-handed glove in a bag in the closet in the apartment.

Balance is maintained, and despite what Jimmy Chile, Mike, and Bill might say, I feel like I’m an idiot, perhaps proving my father right about some things, but having said that, I have to ask myself “What did he know?”1

​​Kenny Rivera
Ice ice baby!!!
22m

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Albert Ross
Careful Kenny
Many Riveras to cross off the list once they’re thrown in the back of an unmarked van…
LOL

Are they Legal “Residents?”

Albert Ross
Are they going through the process for citizenship, Charles?
Some have been doing just that, but wind up getting arrested while they follow the rules.
Would you have informed the authorities as to where Anne Frank was hiding?
No need to answer, we know your type.

The Way They Will

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The past couple of days have been filled with thinking of Bill and the staged reading he was involved with last night. He had been rehearsing it since the beginning of the year. I heard the rehearsals when they were done on Zoom a few rooms away but I could not make out what the words were. I got the tone, a lot of yelling and cursing, and Bill often looked exhausted afterward, as if he had gone through the ringer.

I wanted to be of any assistance to this event, but it really wasn’t asked for and somewhat rebuffed. Still, I persevered and bought a case of water to hand out to whichever patrons might arrive. It was at Jim Mastro’s 503 Social Club, a boxy performance space around the block from two apartments that I lived in 40 years ago.

I had hoped to get some fliers out and post them at various stores and shops in Hoboken. It would have been effective if I could have posted them a week or so before, but I had only gotten them a day before, and the ship had sailed. And the info on those fliers was incorrect anyhow.

On Saturday, Mike and I went to Guitar Bar, where the fliers were sent, but were told there were no fliers. Bill went a few hours later and got the fliers from the same location. So, most of the actions that I wanted to do to help were futile. It added to my despondency.

Saturday was a tightrope of despair, and I tried to put on a brave face, but it was difficult. Mike doesn’t know how to deal with my sensitivity or, as he puts it, my feelings. And Bill was too wrapped up in his preparations to notice.

We did watch Sing Sing, starring Colman Domingo, who is fast becoming one of our favorite actors and afterward Bill, Mike, and I had a good discussion on it. It was a very good film and resonated more with Bill and Mike, with me taking more of an objective view. I can’t say that I would watch it again, but I wouldn’t say no.

Mike slept over again and came back after work on Monday so he could attend. Our neighbor from our building, Deb, handled the stage directions as Bill and the playwright, Chris did the dialogue. I had a nice chat with Deb before the reading started, and she asked me how the podcast was going.

I explained that it seemed the idea was deflated. The people I initially spoke to about the podcast (and you can count them on one hand) never spoke of it again, which is why I was surprised that Deb mentioned it. It was support and interest that reignited the flame under my butt to try and get it going again.

I just need some interest from people around me, though I seem to know that the interest would not be forthcoming, so I need to maintain my own interest in the endeavor rather than hoping that people outside of my head would say something. So the flame was lit and must be maintained somehow by ME.

Deb offered the use of her studio set up in her apartment should I get the podcast concept up and running again. I did bring it up to Bill and Mike, telling them the concept, picking out one of my early postings that they would like me to read as well as asking me questions about what I had just read. They said they would be into it, though if and when the time comes, I can’t say whether or not they would step up to the plate.

Joshua Limbo was the name of the play that was read last night. Bill played Herb, an elderly Black man living in a shack near Joshua Tree in California. The playwright, Chris, had the role of Kosh, a grifter whose motive was unclear at first. He was definitely a sketchy character, not very likable. The words were harsh and caused me to flinch a couple of times. It was intense, to say the least, but I hope a fully formed version will be performed later on down the line.

Mike and I walked home, Bill joining us soon after. We had a heady discussion about the play, about performing and about life and racial issues that were brought up in the reading. Bill was off to bed after that, Mike asleep on the couch, and me at the computer for a little while before turning in for sleep.

Most of the weekend was filled with anxiety on Bill’s behalf, hoping for a good turnout for the reading, and when it was all over, all I had was myself to contend with. And that was not very pretty.

The job search continues, and the ignoring of my applications went on. I sort of appreciate the notice of rejection, rather than the falling by the wayside of how these applications seem to go. So today my spirits crashed hard. Bill was off to get a haircut at noon, but that didn’t happen. I had a plan to call 988 since my level of despair had sunken quite low.

If someone, anyone, tells me they will be doing something at such and such a time, I will believe them, even though I know they are always late or don’t take into consideration my handling of time. So Bill did not go anywhere at noon and I decided to head out as the day was the nicest it’s been in about four or five days.

I asked Bill to join me on my sojourn, and he did, so we discussed what we were talking about on the sidewalks of Hoboken, having a decidedly less heated chat as we strolled to the supermarket. Now I sit, having written. Bill sits a few feet behind me, eating popcorn and playing games on his phone.

I am still somewhat forlorn, but not as bad as I was earlier. The walk, the talk, helped me considerably though Bill and I are not really communicating. Things will get better, I know. Sometimes you have to stand aside and let things go the way they will.