It is Monday, December 1st. It is World AIDS Day. Is also my niece’s husband’s birthday. I used to like him but I find him to be too judgmental these days.

I don’t think I’ve seen him or his wife (my niece) or their lovely daughter in over a year. And they don’t live too far away, but we don’t have the proper transportation to get out there freely

So Mike was over for a few days, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and left on Sunday afternoon. It was okay, but it’s true that towards the end it was a bit tense. Familiarity does breed contempt, and Bill thought Mike was a little overfamiliar

But despite all that, it was a good time. I did speak to Billie in DC last week, and that was fun. He asked me if I was still writing, and I replied that I was, so if he’s reading this now,
“Hello Billie“

Bill was in a Spike Lee movie, ‘Highest to Lowest,’ earlier this year, so we watched that, and it was a decent movie that, even though it did not have enough Bill, Mike was impressed by it

Thanksgiving was pleasant. A trip to Garfield with Mike and Bill. Bill was concerned that Mike would ruin it like he ruined my birthday in September. But Mike was on his best behavior, Elaine didn’t seem to mind, and seemed to enjoy the company that we had brought with us

Not your traditional Thanksgiving Fare, stuffed shells and shepherd’s pie. Work was so dreadfully slow last week that I decided to use up what days I had and take the last two weeks of the year off. I submitted the request, but it has not been approved yet.

I presently do not remember what we had for dinner on Friday, but I do know that we had frozen pizza on Saturday, two frozen pizzas split three ways, which seemed to satisfy everyone. Last night I made the chicken penne and pesto experiments, which went okay. I made enough to bring to work today, which I left in the refrigerator this morning

It’s a quiet day at the lower fruit stand. Good looking men walking by catch my eye. During the Saturday phone call with my sister, she asked if Bill, Mike, and I were in a throuple. We are not, in fact, nothing is going on. Mike wished that he could marry me, and I told him he was promised to someone else, his beloved

It’s a nice late, autumn day. I am wearing my winter coat, which is crazy war.m I sweat a lot. I wear a t-shirt underneath it and have my work shirt in my bag. I bought an Eagle Creek bag last week, and it was delivered, and I’m not used to it. I tried to use it on Wednesday, a very slow day, and figured out that I have too much stuff to carry around on a daily basis. To be honest, I had too much to carry from office to office.

And it is quiet in the fruit stand, like I might have said before. Literally is literally a word that is used too often. A very good looking man walks by with his girlfriend, but he looks sharp

A nice coworker walked by as I was sitting outside smoking my mini cigar and said hello. I do like her a lot, but of course not in that way

I bought some shirts online, flannel shirts for Bill, extra extra large. Three shirts total, though two were just extra large, so I reordered the extra extra large for Bell and will give the other two to Mike for Christmas. I did the smart thing for once, and I am having them delivered to the office, supposedly for Thursday delivery

Bill spent a good part of yesterday afternoon cleaning up his stuff, and I saw a photograph of him and an old friend of his. I met her a few times, Theresa, and asked if he was in touch with her. He explained that he tried but could not get through, and that it reminded me that I should get in touch with Connie

And around 9:00 ish I called her, knowing that it would be 6:00-ish where she is. The call went to voicemail, so I left a pleasant message letting her know that I was thinking of her. I just hope it was her actual phone and not a stranger

And now I am back at my desk after the mini cigar, which came after a burger from Wendy’s with fries. Nothing healthy, but inexpensive nonetheless

This weekend, I am planning on going with Bill to a memorial service for a coworker. When Bill initially asked, I begged off, thought about it afterwards, and decided to attend alongside Bill.
Bill may or may not have remembered this.

So, on World AIDS Day I looked up George Jet Watley, and this came up: Jet Watley (1958-1989): An individual remembered by friends on social media, potentially a friend or relative of Jody Watley.

I do not think he was related to Jody Watley. He was a dear friend of mine and passed away in 1989, which devastated me. I think I met Jet in 1982 when I was driving from Saddle Brook, New Jersey, to midtown Manhattan twice a day.

He was the assistant mailroom manager, and while I was there sorting out now he was at his desk listening to King Crimson. I commented that it was a great record, and we became very fast friends from that point.

He looked out for me; it was the first person who said it was okay that I was gay since he was gay. And I mentioned then “boyfriend” Lee Stothers, who was indifferent to me. Lee passed away a year or so before Jet.

It was through Jet that I met Billie. Jet moved from Manhattan to Washington, DC. I assume he had done that before, hence his friends Billie and Gracie. Gracie is out of the picture due to a falling out with Billie. I have no information on Gracie. But Billie and I talk on the phone every few months to touch base.

I do think of Jet every now and then, and today, being the day that it is, World AIDS Day, he is foremost in my thoughts.

I sit at the desk listening to Scritti Politti, White Bread Black Beer. And it’s hard to believe that this record is 20 years old or thereabouts. I did see Scritti Politti in 2006. A brilliant show, a show that I never thought I would see. Green Gartside and company sounded fantastic, and I got way too drunk on the black beer.

I was working at McMahon and Tate in 2006 and attended the show with Lesley Robertson and Adam Ames, two of the few people I worked with whom I liked. I have no idea where either one of them is now. 19 years, you know?

I can see clearly now
That song is currently residing in my head

The fruit stand is deserted except for me, a handful of cleaners, and John the security guard. The wind blows through barren branches in the orchard. There is no AC on, there is no heat on, it’s just dead air.

Mike unloaded quite a bit last night, telling me the story of what happened 15 years ago or so, perhaps 14 years ago, when he was 30 and in Newark and dropping out of the Culinary Institute of America. It’s not a good story, but it’s a story that he felt I needed to hear.

I did want to tell him that I knew the facts but not the details of what happened when he was 30. I did look it up once when I swore we’d never be friends again, and I had washed my hands of him. But I kept my mouth shut and just let him spill his guts. He’s a good kid who made an awful mistake and has paid the price for it and continues to pay the price for it.

Meanwhile, at the fruit stand, nothing is happening.

The PATH train was not crowded. A few Xavier High School boys who headed in were probably getting an early dismissal. I’d like to get an early dismissal since there was an early dismissal last Friday. Jimmy Chile suggested that Yancey might give a call with a thumbs up for an early dismissal.

I have ordered Smashburger for a 12:30 pickup. It is close to 60°, and I went out earlier because it was so hot in the office that I needed to get some fresh air, so I went out and had a mini cigar.
My cigars were delivered yesterday, as was my Eagle Creek bag which I still have to get used to as well as Mike’s external hard drive, which is exciting for him, so he can take the porn off my computer and put it on the hard drive and watch to his heart’s content or until he’s dry between the legs on his laptop.

I spoke to my sister-in-law last night with regards to our visit on Thursday. We shall be out there at the usual time, 2-ish, with Mike in tow. The menu is stuffed shells and shepherd’s pie. Turkey and all those other things are too time-consuming, and since she is making the food, she decides the menu. And as far as Mike is concerned, as long as there is no pesto, he should be fine.

So I am at the main fruit stand in midtown Manhattan. I am sitting at Lex Luthor’s desk. Lex has an owl fetish, as well as putting bling on most everything; he is definitely queer. And I am definitely gay.

I will make an effort to leave the desk as I found it, restarting everything on the computer when I leave, which I hope will be earlier than 5:00 p.m. Way too many eyeballs here, even though they’re all mechanical and attached to cameras, since there are no humans here.

I am getting a lot of use out of the iPad, but not necessarily for work reasons; Prawns

I am now sitting opposite 1220 Broadway smoking up a Padrón 3000 natural. It’s a humid, clammy day; it rained quite a bit yesterday, and today is the remnants of that. It’s awfully quiet in the office. Jimmy Chile suggests that we might be dismissed early, but I see no proof of that. He also suggested that we would be getting paid today, and I definitely see no proof of that.

A Tribe Called Quest- Low End Theory
Talking Heads- Speaking in Tongues, two records that I played from start to finish while I worked.

I am still reading the book about the cars, and they’re in the middle of making Candy O, and it’s just not that interesting because Candy O is just not that interesting an album. I found each successive LP less interesting than the one before, so I would like to know if my disinterest will correspond with the remaining chapters. I am halfway through the book

I did place a request for Cameron Crowe’s book, but I think there might be a long wait for it