The hopeful pessimist

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Fats Domino I’m Walking

Disappointment reigns today. Actually, it started taking root last night didn’t really have much to say to Bill. He seemed greatly annoyed the previous night with our discussion and his firm decision that we would never get together like that again.

And I, with just a hint of Pollyanna, was hanging onto hope, and perhaps it would, but it will not. Mike said he would leave if it happened to him, but I’m not leaving cuz I have nowhere to go, and neither does Bill, so we’re basically stuck together. Yes, there’s love, but I guess it’s more of a platonic love.

I am not going out to look for something. If I want something, I will save up my money and pay for it. I’ve done that in the past, and I will do it again. The price of being a selfish lover. A sex worker will do what you want them to do.

Mike is going on a cruise with his beloved in March? April? He’s very excited about it, whereas I feel like going on a cruise would be hell to be stuck with these people that I may or may not like. Bill can go, and I do not have to. Perhaps the way to do things going forward is to do them alone.

I don’t know, I really can’t say right now, but it is a remote possibility. Oh, Mike has been telling me that he lubbs me, which is the love language that he speaks to his beloved with. I’m trying to get him to stop doing that.

It is certainly true that my life was easier without sex, and then Mike came and showed me that I could have fun, and that didn’t last, and now I’m left holding the bag, so to speak, it’s not even a nice bag; it’s very disappointing, it’s bad.

At this point, I have to say I am grateful that they are both functionally illiterate, meaning they don’t read this here blog.

And I have mentioned to Bill and brought up to Mike that my feelings are transitory, basically, I might feel some way at 6:00 p.m., at 6:15 I might feel something different, so nothing is set in stone, especially when it comes to feeling, my feelings.

And they don’t read this anyway.

And wholly unrelated news, I am at the main fruit stand today, and it’s not so bad. Yesterday I messed up on an email, sent it to the wrong person, and expected to get chewed out about it, which is still a possibility with these passive aggressive fruit pickers.

It’s busy; there are some bold-faced names passing through. And some of those names will be at the smaller fruit stand with me tomorrow.

Friday morning, there is a meeting at the main food stand, which also has the capability for an on-camera meeting. Yancey is organizing it, and I asked him if I was needed to be there, and he said he would prefer it.

Now my hours are generally 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. but they do Friday and the timesheet goes in on Thursday and since tomorrow is Thursday the timesheet for the week will also go in but I’m not going to show up on Friday until the meeting giving myself another hour and make my life that much sweeter or at least that’s how it looks on paper.

So it’s all a big mess. And I suppose it’s mostly my own doing. Bill loves me. I love Bill.
Is it the same type of love? I really can’t say. I can say I am disappointed in the Christmas gift that he gave me. And I think my disappointment was noticeable. Mike remarked on it, and Bill didn’t.

It’s a device that will turn on should we lose power in the apartment. It’s for the computer, and the last time we had a power outage like that was probably 14 years ago. So basically, he has given me a gift that we hope not to use.

Did he use his imagination? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he has a limited imagination. I used my imagination to get Bill a few shirts. He seemed to like them. I got Mike a few shirts, which he gave to his beloved, which shows me I will never get him a gift again.

Yancey just introduced me to a young man named Derek Strawberry. Yancey usually tells people about my working in the music studios and the recording industry back in the day.
I regale them with my story of being at 6 West 57th Street and having a smoke when a kid came up to me, asked me how we could get his cassette into the record label.

It was then I had a moment and told him that the record industry was on its way out. I was struck by a premonition, perhaps a Cassandra-like thing, but I told him that soon he’ll be able to do this all on his own on a laptop distributed himself, etc., etc. For a twist, I tell people about that the young man was Kanye West, which makes them flip out.

The hopeful pessimist

A lot of water has passed underneath that burning bridge

The Drain I Am

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Uncertain Smile The The
Book of Angels Jim White
Ain’t going to take it, Tom Robinson Band

Saturday and Sunday, while walking down Madison Street from the really big supermarket, I noticed about a dozen Robins. Usually, it’s a big thing you make a wish when you see the first one of the spring, but here we are in winter, and I’ve seen at least a dozen or maybe half a dozen on Madison Street

It is Tuesday, January 20th, 2026, back at work after a 3-day weekend. It was a boring three-day weekend, and yesterday, Monday, Martin Luther King Day, it all came together, not necessarily in a good way but in a necessary way.

Mike was supposed to come over and hang out, and of course, something came up that prevented that from happening. It’s always something with his parole officer, that’s the standard excuse, but the latest one was that his front door was broken, so he’s been stuck in the apartment all weekend.

I expressed my disappointment and suggested I come over, but he never responded to that, and then later, when we texted, he said he’s the one who invited me over, and I turned it down, which is not true at all. I think I was getting played, and I still think I’m getting played.

And then I had a talk with Bill about something that happened 15 years ago. Basically, we have a relationship which 98% works fine, 2% does not work, and we get through it. Mike calls it spousal abuse. I said it was more like neglect. Bill mentioned that we will never be in that situation again, which was an ear opener, if not an eye opener.

I was a selfish lover, basically just took care of my own needs and not anyone else’s, which is not a good way to be.

That’s how I had been most of my life. My chickens have come home to roost. I mean, they did come back 15 years ago, and here they made another appearance.

I felt better about it yesterday, talking with Bill today, not so much, but I have smoldering embers to deal with. Both Mike and Bill had suggested that I go elsewhere to find physical satisfaction.

But I am wary. I am 63 years old. I have dodged many bullets in the past, and I don’t want to get in the firing range again, even though they seem to be suggesting that’s what I do.

I think going to the land of the solo sexual is where I best belong. I take care of things myself takes about 15 minutes, no need for rejection or disease control. Perhaps I will also fold into myself and reduce communications with Bill and Mike on matters that concern me.
I certainly don’t want to hear about Mike’s beloved and their plans anymore, even though I will keep hearing about them and cannot actually tell him to stop.

And then there is Bill’s endless spiel, which goes on and on and never stops unfolding. I know I’m not perfect, I’m going to be totally reminding myself that I’m not. They’re also fond of telling me that I keep forgetting things, which may be so.

Perhaps it’s the early onslaught of Alzheimer’s disease, I wouldn’t know, maybe somebody told me that, and I forgot about it. Things were easier prior to November 2024
Nowadays they are complicated and difficult to get through, perhaps ignorance is bliss, but I was very blissful in 2024, although still unhappy, dealing with the monkeys and assholes Barry McGarry

My cousin Ginger died on Sunday. Her service is on Friday, and I cannot attend. That may have played a part in my state of mind over the past two days, although when I brought it up to Bill, he asked if I was really that close to her, and I had to admit I was not, so that negates anything that I might have been feeling, according to Bill

And now names from the past; today’s names are Carlos Baez, Florence Ligouri, and Diane Maldonado.

Carlos was a forklift driver from the Bronx working in Saddle Brook who was having an affair with Florence Liguori. And went on for a number of years, everybody knew about it, they weren’t hiding anything. Florence adored Barbra Streisand, and that’s why she answered my question, because I looked up something about Barbra Streisand today.

Things cooled between Carlos and Florence when Diane Maldonado arrived on the scene. Whereas Florence worked in the post office shipping department of the book Warehouse in Saddle Brook, Diane Maldonado was currently installed at the offices on the other side of the building.

Florence was dropped, and Diane was embraced, crushing Florence in the process. Carlos was one of the people who, when he found out that I was gay, was fully disgusted and didn’t have anything to do with me.

Carlos was also an ex-junkie, and according to William Burroughs, there’s no such thing. Once a junkie, always a junkie.

Carlos is more than likely dead and left a wife and kids in the Bronx for a couple of white chicks in North Jersey. He was a scumbag, attempted to take a higher moral ground, and judged me because I was gay.