Staten Island?

Today was alright. Nothing too heavy. I only thought about the last job briefly, no dwelling on it allowed. I thought about K Amundsen—a nice kid. I was intimidated by him, I thought he had some seniority over me. He didn’t. We worked alongside each other doing wholly unrelated things.

I have to laugh when I think back to when we were first working in the same area. He was wearing clunky black glasses which made him look a lot like Lea DeLaria. The office culture that exists today would not allow an open comparison to say aloud, so I kept it to myself.

We connected on Broadway shows. He was living with his parents on Staten Island so his expenses were low and he could afford to see a Broadway show or two a month. I envied that in him somewhat.

And he had loving parents, younger than mine were. His parents seemed to be understanding and supportive of their obviously queer son. K was of the generation that calls themselves queer, whereas my generation was gay and queer was a slur to us.

It’s a generational thing, Man.

It’s been a good day. Bill was on the road after not being on the road for a while. It stresses him out which in turn, stresses me out. Then it becomes alternate days of the blues and accompanying depression. He’s been handling things fairly well and I do my best to accommodate him when he sinks to the depths of despair.

Despite being a solo act most of the day I met up with Mike. We speak or rather text almost every day and I made it a point to see him this afternoon. He’s moving to his new crib his week, on Friday and Saturday. He needed a few items including an air mattress since an actual mattress is not in his current budget.

I decided to cash in a Target gift card that I had gotten a while ago that was soon to expire and bought him an air mattress. The plan was to meet up and have a walk and talk as he was going to get the Path train at Grove Street in Jersey City.

But the air mattress was in a cumbersome box that was heavy and though the skies had been a little bit cloudy with sun, by the time we were to meet the heavens were going to open. So, no walk and talk, just a handoff for an unwieldy box, and then I sent him on his way.

It was funny when I called Mike about the change of plans. I had to keep reassuring him that nothing was bad, in fact, it was something that he would actually like, but the walk and talk was a no-go.

And though it did not rain on me when I was walking home, Bill reported rain in Staten Island and Mike had it raining on him when he was en route to Newark.

Grey Seal

It is not getting easier as soon as I had hoped. It’s not getting harder though. I see desperation on the horizon. It’s been over a month and a half and bitterness still lingers.

I have decided to cut any ties with Barry McGarry for the sake of my mental health. Unfortunately, that would mean cutting off Daisy and though she has done me no harm, she is part of that system therefore a reminder of the system that threw me out.

Her last text to me was about meeting up but I don’t see it happening since I am still wounded and all I would do is focus on my wound and denigrate the people she works with. I think I helped improve her life, getting her out of the fast food world with a steady Monday through Friday job with benefits and also a year end bonus which she more than likely received this time of year.

I found myself thinking of the boys that I graduated from St Francis de Sales with, in June 1976. Granted I never saw them outside of the school year, by September 1976 Ronald Straub, Frank Mallia, Santo Munafo, Jimmy Bartoli, Frank Musacchio, Charlie Wrede, and that helicopter guy Kaminski something or other.

We were all friendly in grammar school but by high school 3 months later, we were separated and any contact between me and them was nonexistent. I see Charlie Wrede on the social medias but he seems to be touched by maga that I keep my distance.

Ronald Straub was a sensitive guy, very quiet, and very smart. The rest were not as smart as Ronald. I did see Santo Munafo and Jimmy Bartoli at the reunion in 2000. I was gakked out that night and the guys I wanted to see were not there. It was a futile return to the past and I left knowing that I would never want to see these people again.

The guys I wanted to see were John Nesselt who maintains no social media presence as far as I know, and Jim Carley who seems to have passed away at age 35 in 1997 while jogging.
Let that be a lesson for ya! I learned not to go to any reunions that were not family functions.

The TV has been off most of the day so far and I’ve been listening to music most of the time. Earlier before heading out for a cigar stroll, I listened to music tones from the Bloom 10 app. Now I listen to an Elton playlist.

Bill and I watched the Elton John documentary streaming last week. I found it to be very good and well-made. Bill seemed to enjoy it too. Piano player watching a piano player.

The idea for a podcast still exists in the back of my mind. The chat with Jim Mastro planted a seed in my head. I mentioned picking up the torch that was dropped by Spalding Gray and where Spalding sat at a table talking, the spaces in which to do just that are few and far between. To me, it seems a podcast would be the place to do such a thing.

I could also interview friends like RoDa, Karyn Kuhl and others. If I get just a few pairs of eyeballs to watch, that would suffice. Not necessarily profitable but artistically it would be like this here blog, where the only eyeballs that seem to read this are my own. But with all the entries I have posted since 2005, I have a wealth of material to draw from.

I have kept the fact of my unemployment to a handful of people, Bill, of course, Annemarie, my sister-in-law Elaine, and Mike who still dangles the prospect of working alongside him in the shelter.

Today I just told my brother Brian who asked if I had gone to the company holiday party. I couldn’t hide it from him since he asked and lying about it would do no good at all. He’s recovering from a cardiac procedure last week and I asked how he was doing via text and his reply was about the holiday party.

I just told him to keep getting better and not to worry about me and to keep it to himself. We shall see how that goes.