Well, I overdressed this morning. Last night the weather report before I went to sleep was it the weather would be in the 40s so I busted out the Navy peacoat that I had for the past 25 years and with the window open this morning it did feel a little bit chilly but when you’re on the 5th floor have a five-story walk up things are different and when you hit the street and when I hit the street is quite balmy.

I still carried on, got my bagel, and walked to the PATH train, and when I got there, I was sweating like a horse. I might not be hung like a horse, but I could sure sweat like one.

I got to the office in front of Marcus by 30 seconds who told me I was supposed to be at the other office today and I thought he was crazy he said look at the calendar and there it was despite the fact I was there for 3 days last week I was supposed to be there for today did not make any sense at all but it’s not my place to decide what makes sense in which does not.

It turns out that my being here was the smart thing to do since it’s been a bit busy this afternoon with various guests and personnel showing up.

I contacted Yancy, who initially was okay with it, and then minutes later, not so okay with it. He runs hot and cold like that, like the faucets in the men’s room that are activated by an electronic eye, it’s never the right temperature you want it’s a fucking pain in the ass to get the water to start running.

It’s one of those days, one of those past 24 hours
I find myself questioning my Santa day (SANITY), and with my paranoia, usually I am, and I have no reason to be, and then there are days when I do have a reason to be paranoid.

This morning, I received word that it’s like so and so asked for these dates, November 10th to the 14th, and I gave them something else, and they said thank you for your help, but that’s not what we asked for, and I was able to fix it but still it didn’t work out initially though in the end it did.

And Marcus finally gave me the iPad that is supposed to be used by me for backup for another office, and then he told me that I should not be doing this. That so-and-so should be able to do it himself since he has all the necessary tools for such a thing. Nothing like mixed messages, I suppose.

I did have a very interesting dream last night. Or this morning. I was wearing a suit, a blue pinstriped Sean John suit that is a favorite. In the dream, I was only wearing the pants. I was wearing braces and a white shirt with my black Keith Haring tie, but could not find the jacket, which led me to run through the World Trade Center where it might be going up and down escalators, seeing it and then not seeing it.

I was talking to people or getting on the wrong escalator. And then I wound up at 13 Riverview Avenue where my mother and father and Frank, Annemarie, and Brian were having dinner, which seemed to be steak tips and red peppers, and despite Annemarie being a vegetarian, the plate was right in front of her.

Frank was wearing a shirt that looked like something I saw online months ago, and I complimented him on it and then mentioned to my mother that it was a cheap shirt that I knew where he got it from, some place online not quite reputable, Temu.

I slept soundly, and it was a relief. Though there are moments before the alarm clock goes off when I am getting anxious waiting for the alarm clock to go off.

I just met Dion, a wonderful young man in his 20s is being let go since his contract has expired, and I met his replacement, a young woman named Andrea, who seems nice, and Dion says that she’s great, and I said But you’re great and he said We’re both great, we’re equal.
I am going to miss Dion.

Oh my God, those are some ugly shoes. A guy walked by wearing the ugliest shoes, which seemed to be in fashion, which does not account for anything resembling taste. I hope I will spy again, and I will try to surreptitiously take photographs of his ugly footwear

I definitely wore the wrong coat today.

It’s Tuesday, October 14. D’Angelo passed away. He was something else. I remember seeing the cover for Brown Sugar and wondering who this sexy young man was. I bought the CD on the strength of the cover and loved the music within. Hip hop with some soul. Neo Soul it was called eventually. Erykah Badu, Common, Maxwell, and a whole host of others moved to the forefront. I was interested in seeing him at Radio City, but was somehow diverted by some idiot that I worked with telling me that it was going to be all women screaming.

A few years after that, D’Angelo released Voodoo. I entered a contest back then and won a Rio MP3 player, which fit maybe 3 songs at the time. I still have it somewhere. I won a Levi’s Denim Jacket, which I still have and wear to this day, and also a laminated promo pass for the album. The cream of the whole thing was the video for Untitled (How Does It Feel). D’Angelo, possibly nude, staring into the camera and emoting somewhat erotically. It got my attention and pops up in some gay videos now and then.

Time passed, stories about D’Angelo recording, getting in trouble with the law. The trim physique from the Untitled video had proven to be too great to carry, and he lost it. It wasn’t really him, though it did get a lot of tongues wagging, literally and figuratively. In December of 2015, seemingly out of nowhere, D’Angelo released Black Messiah, credited to D’Angelo and the Vanguard, which included Jesse Johnson from The Time and a top-shelf bassist, Pino Palladino, who had played with The Who.

I played it constantly ten years ago, back when I wore headphones while walking down the street to the Path train. I worked with a guy named Neal Elevado, whose brother Russell was D’Angelo’s engineer. Deep discussions were held about Black Messiah. The next year, Bill and I went to Forest Hills Tennis Stadium to see the tour. Bill was not that familiar with D’Angelo’s catalogue.

We met up with Frankie Santangelo at the concert, an old friend from way back when, and also a fellow checkerboard chick. Today is Frankie’s birthday, now remembered as the day D’Angelo died. Frankie was the one who mentioned that in a phone call this afternoon. I called Frankie to discuss D’Angelo.

It was a shock to hear from Bill this morning about D’Angelo. Bill knew that I would be affected by this, and I certainly was. 51 years old, pancreatic cancer. Much too young. He kept it to himself, I guess, since it came over the wire and left everyone floored. I’ve been posting various clips and videos throughout the day, comisserating with other fans.

D’Angelo had a son, Michael Archer II, with Angie Stone. Angie passed away earlier this year. Michael posted his gratitude to everyone during this rough year.

A statement from D’Angelo & Angie Stone’s son, Michael, on the passing of his father:

“I am grateful for your thoughts and prayers during these very difficult times, as it has been a very rough and sad year for me.” “I ask that you please continue to keep me in your thoughts, as it will not be easy, but one thing that both my parents taught me was to be strong, and I intend to do just that.” -Michael Archer II