35° in Hoboken on Wednesday. It’s been a blase day. I sent in a resume and job application to Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC) and they were kind enough to reject me not long after receiving my resume. Most jobs say nothing for a few days but GMHC stood up and said ‘No fucking way’.

I did the AIDS walk to raise money/consciousness back then and I also volunteered to work the GMHC Dance-A-Thon in the 90s a few years in a row at the Javits Center. I escorted celebrities like Rosie Perez. Rosie and her crew were a bit drunk and I was on my way to being gakked.

Madonna stopped by our backstage table and Rosie asked Madge, ‘How you are?’ Madonna looked odd, dressed like what seemed to be Heidi or an Alpine look, and with shaved eyebrows.

Over 40 years ago I went to an early location of GMHC, in someone’s apartment in Chelsea. Jet Watley, my dear friend thought it would be a good idea, since I had crabs and this was a way to make sure I didn’t have anything else.

The attendant in the apartment jabbed my arm a few times, trying to find a vein to take a blood sample. Crabs were the worst of what I had, and unfortunately, Jet Watley passed away of AIDS about 6 years later.

So thanks but no thanks from GMHC. They asked for references and I contacted 2 people who offered to be references from Bratty McGrotty. One was on vacation and one was working and they both replied that they were willing. The one that was working did their best to bolster my spirits in spite of my dour outlook on this situation.

Bill and I did our stroll around Hoboken this afternoon while I gathered my steps. Bill had a lot to say about things that were bus-related and I told him of my 90-minute TED talk with Mike about Theology, Religion, and Atheism.

Meanwhile, the country is going to hell. The Tesla guy and his minions are gathering data and information from the Treasury Department and today was trying to get into the Department of Labor.

Last night L’Orange Merde stated his desire to go to Gaza and bulldoze and get the Palestinians out and put them elsewhere to turn Gaza into a spot like the French Riviera on the Mediterranean. Despite outrage and disbelief from people like myself, the razing of our systems goes on.

I’m sure Russia’s Puta is fine with it, watching the decline of the United States without having to fire a shot. I think the Russian Puta has dirt on L’Orange Merde and it in turn has dirt on the majority of the GQP which needs its hunger for power to be sated.

I brought that up with Mike as well. I’m surprised he remained awake for my 90-minute chat since I felt it probably sounded like talk radio playing when one is trying to sleep. Bill listens to things on his eyemask with tiny speakers when he sleeps.

Sometimes I hear these affirmations.

Me and Mr L’s. Today was a haircut day. It’s Monday. Growing up in Lodi NJ Barbershops would be closed Sunday and Monday. In Hoboken, the barbershops are closed on Wednesday unless there is a holiday approaching and rules are bent.

For quite a number of years I’ve been going to Mr. L’s which is in my neighborhood. Presently there are four barbershops in my area with a few more on the main drag, Washington Street. There is no shortage of tonsorial artists.

I thought about learning the trade about 15 years ago and talked out of it from Tony and his son Nick as well as Lou, Mr. L himself. ‘It’s a boring life and you’re on your feet all day’, was their advice to not become a barber.

I looked into going to school for it which is out of character for me since my educational experiences were found to be lacking. I went to a beauty school on 34th Street by the Empire State Building and was given an oversized book to lug around. I also went to a beauty school in North Bergen.

Both advised me that I would have to learn to cut women’s hair and do makeup, two areas I did not want to know about. And student loans would have to be acquired. I looked into a barber school in the Village which offered free or reduced fees if one was a veteran and since I was not a veteran I dropped the idea.

My sister-in-law offered to loan me the money but instead, I got a job at the cigar shack which if you have been reading this here blog back then, you would know what happened there. Now there are Help Wanted signs in the window of Mr L’s.

I have tried all the barbers or stylists in the shop. Tony, Nick’s father was my main guy. He’s retired after some health issues and the pandemic really set him back. Lou, Mr L himself also retired but makes an occasional appearance since he owns the building.

I tried the women as well. One cut me when she was looking at her Blackberry and tried to cover it up so she was released from the list. There was one woman I did trust to cut my shoulder-length pony tail and she did well. But Nick inherited the ‘go-to’ title from his father.

I do like the haircut I got yesterday. Close-cropped and low maintenance. Mike said that it makes me look a few years younger and Bill just loves it outright. Today is Tuesday and it is 45°. The job search goes on and on. I am going to have to lower my aim for a job that pays close to what I was making at Bratty McGrotty.

I wrote this whole post last night. I write on Google Drive and then I copy and paste into WordPress. Last night I hit the wrong keys and didn’t notice and copied the title. When I did notice what had happened I hit CTRL Z but it would only go so far. So here I am, 12 hours later trying to recoup what it was that I wrote on this here blog.