Jungle Love by Steve Miller Band
Chim chim cheree from Mary Poppins
2 songs in my head this morning.

NYC 14. Midtown, across from the Garden. A homeless guy who used to be a hassle in Tribeca was spotted by me on 31st Street. He was across from the homeless kitchen and focused on that, and chanting. He did not see me as I quickened my pace, not wanting any sense of remembrance.

On my way in this morning, I remembered everything except for my bottle of water. I went to J&M at 3rd and Garden.

I came into the fruit stand and was greeted with a hug from Janice.
I just told Marcus to stop throwing his nuts at me.
He was eating peanuts while also visiting this particular fruit stand. It shut him down.

This office space was where I initially started with the fruit stand. I much prefer the fruit stand downtown. Not that I have any say in the matter.

I am working alongside Kimberley, which is a good thing. She’s a 25-year-old sweetheart. Very pretty and clever, Kimberley is.

Being at a different fruit stand, I was not able to stretch out like I usually do. Adaptation was in order. Not that it mattered much. Any apprehension I might have had the past couple of weeks had fallen by the wayside, seeing how things are done with the fruit pickers around me showed me that the way I’ve been doing things was the same way they mostly have been doing things.

Right now, I am pretty much tired. I feel like I could go to sleep right now, but Bill mentioned that if I did, I would likely wake up at 2 AM, and that would not be good for anyone. I have been sleeping well the past couple of nights, not taking any chances. We’ve been running the air conditioner, which may or may not have had a positive effect on my slumber. This weekend we’ll see how that theory holds up.

Being at a different fruit stand, I could not work on this entry like I’ve been doing lately. In fact, I am presently typing these words. It’s just as well since dictating into the phone has been hit or miss, since the phone’s mic seems to work when it wants to, not when I want it to.

It seems my typing has fallen off somewhat today, or at least right now. It was sketchy at work as well, but not like now. I’m more relaxed than I was earlier, and Grammarly keeps its watchful eye on each keystroke.

I am inching toward the 500-word discipline, and it’s an uphill slog. But I persevere, and with each stroke of the keys, I am closer to attaining that goal.

So many political campaign ads are running and will continue to run for the next month. So much negativity, though Bill and I are firmly in the blue camp and thankful we are not in the New York City district, just across the river, where the New Jersey gubernatorial campaign leaves a lot to be desired.

Tuesday, September 30th the end of the month, not my favorite month, but I’m sorry to see it go.

I tell you, dictating notes into my phone what it hears and records what I say, are sometimes two different things.

The former salon of Patrick Morrissey, which had turned into a pizzeria, has been torn down. A few late nights and early mornings were spent there with a case of beer and various powders, good times indeed. It was Patrick’s downfall, Kenny Heavens’ largesse inadvertently contributed to it, and Patrick had a good day but was too distracted by the parties.

I sat at my desk listening to Katrina and the Waves. Going down to Liverpool is my jam. Before Katrina and the Waves, I played Konk. Maybe I’m falling down a K-hole. Perhaps I’ll play the Kinks next.

There are several people here who lack social graces, like saying good morning or thank you, or hello. It’s always been like that, but it’s getting worse. Back in the day at wanker banker, I had a collision with Zelkah Farsajsni over the fact that she had the inability to greet anyone that she deemed not on her social level. A Persian refugee.

I’m having lunch in 7 minutes, even though I already ate it, which means I’m leaving my dance to wander around the neighborhood. There is a site on 14th Street that I’ve been needing to take photographs of, and I think today would be the day to do it.

It’s Tuesday, which means in 2 days it will be Thursday, and Thursday is payday, and since it’s the beginning of the month, that means the rent is due. I can handle it. I’ve got to figure out how to budget other things, but it’s all taken care of as far as I can tell.

I am trying not to say anything about my sleep the past two nights, and that’s not working out because here I am saying things about my sleep the past two nights, which went very well. I suppose I should arrange my sleep schedule to go to sleep earlier and move everything up a few minutes earlier, basically my sleep preparation routine.

I saw Bill online at his gym in midtown and was about to call him to let him know that there is a co-worker here, just like a 1930s newsboy flat cap and knickers without any irony. I think that’s his deal.

I found it humorous and was going to call him to share that info when he called me to let me know that he was not at Fort Dix, where there was an active shooter action going on.
Bill does drive back and forth from Fort Dix from time to time; thankfully, today was not one of those times.

I am becoming disillusioned with Google Fi. Despite my best efforts, I seem to be eating data, which causes my bill to ris,e and I was going to change my pla,n which would wind up with me paying more money, which is probably what Google Fi would like.
I did put in motion to change the plan yesterday, and today I changed it back.

Just gave Mike a call. No answer. No offense, but I am relieved.

A bunch of NYPD cars are flying down 14th Street to something on the east side.