Still the same

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Still the same

Still reading the book about the cars.
I was behind some chick that I had to instruct to push the door rather than pull the door, took my spot outside as I smoked my little cigar.

So Mike has convinced his beloved not to make the trip for Thanksgiving since it would have been outrageously expensive, over $1,000 for a round trip from San Francisco to LaGuardia, which is a relief for me.

A bus driving friend of Bill’s passed away, had a stroke, and soon after, I entered hospice care within 24 hours; he left his mortal coil. Bill asked if I would attend the memorial service in December with him, and of course dragged my feet and said no, I didn’t know the guy, and regretted doing that, so I will be attending, but he does not know that yet.

It’s not a bad day weather wise today in Manhattan on November 25, Tuesday. I do like to sleep, and I slept well last night, although the night before, the carbon monoxide detector went off, alerting us that the batteries need to be changed, and of course, it did it at 2:30 in the morning.

Usually, there’s a chirping sound to give us some info that the battery needs to be changed, but not this time, it was straight up and get the hell out of bed and change the batteries, it’s 2:30 a.m.

Other little Catholic boys wearing uniforms to high school around the block just passed by, and the funny thing is, they’re old enough to be my grandkids. Perhaps children out of wedlock? There’s nothing sexual about them that I see, because even when I was their age, I was not interested in kids that were my age. I like older men, and I still do, and I still look for them even though now I play the part of the older man, which is ironic, wouldn’t you say?

I just dictated a text to Bill that he can know I will be attending the memorial, and then he will say I don’t have to, and I will say I know, but I will. Mike actually convinced me to go since he had gone to a memorial with his ex, Jason, years ago for someone that Mike did not know. So I figure if he can do it, I can do it, that’s the way love is

And it’s still crazy quiet, at the fruit stand, and tomorrow I’ll be at the main fruit stand in midtown, where there will be more space and more quietude.

Mike ordered an external hard drive, which was supposed to be delivered on Friday and was delivered today via FedEx, which is not the method I would have preferred, but Bill was home to buzz the package in.

For lunch today, I had halal food once again, and it was good, but not as good as it was last week, which was the first time, and is it ever as good as the first time?

David Salidor, his name pops into my head after seeing someone who sort of looks like them.

One fruit stand employee came in today. He didn’t have to; he’s getting paid for staying at home, but here he is saying it’s the only time he can get work done, with no one around to distract him.

Last week I ordered an Eagle Creek bag. It is being delivered by a company I have never heard of before, and I contacted them and asked them some questions. I asked if they were partners with FedEx or USPS, or UPS, and they said no, it is being delivered by On Track, a company I’d never heard of before.

So after I got off the phone with them, I did a little research and found out that on track delivers it to the post office, which then delivers it to the customer. So they say it was delivered, I can only hope it’s indoors on the floor waiting for me to bring it upstairs. So Mike’s hard drive has been delivered, the Eagle Creek bag has been delivered, and also some cigars that I had ordered or were supposed to be delivered today, so perhaps three items will be waiting for me when I get home.

The fruit stand has given me an iPad to work with as I monitor the doors at another fruit stand. Since I will be working at the main fruit stand tomorrow I have to bring the iPad with me and remember to bring the iPad with me so that’s that. It’s all about memory. Which, for me, sometimes resembles Swiss cheese due to the amount of marijuana that I inhale sometimes, hahaha.

This dictation into the phone is a bit unnerving since it translates what it thinks I said rather than actually taking my words into account. And I suppose the prosthetics in my mouth can make me slur my words, which can be frustrating for me as well as whoever is ever taking the dictation notes.

Small Talk

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It is as expected, the only people in the office are the housekeeper and me, not sure if Jimmy Chile is in. I’m sending him a message right now to find out.

So it’s Jimmy, me, and the housekeeper. The gentleman who looked older than me, but I can never tell these days, strode by my desk. He was in the office for about 10 minutes at most, and then he left. Employees who work for the fruit stand are off, but people who are contracted to work at the food stand.

Bill and I saw a play called The Popes of Farragut Street. It was a good play, it was better than the play that Bill was in August. There was a plan to have Mike join us, and I tried calling him five times on Monday, five times on Tuesday, and for those 10 times, he did not answer the phone, so any offer for him to join us did not come to fruition

Bill was a bit anxious about Mike and his 15-minute attention span, that if he wasn’t feeling like playing within 15 minutes, he would pull out his phone, but he’s not that type, he’s very much into the theater and would like to know more about it, and the play was just that good that it would have drawn his attention.

During the first act, a few women, a couple of rows ahead of us, pulled out their phones and looked at them in the darkness of the seating, which was an annoying distraction, and I knew Mike would never have done something like that.

And Bill and I met Ralph Carter, who played Michael Evans in that 1970 show Good Times. Ralph was a gentleman and happy to know that he had fans and people who appreciated him all these years later, like 50 years later.

The play was in the afternoon, so I was home by 6:45, and Bill had to head out to the garage to pick up the company car since he had to be at the company garage at 2:00 a.m., actually get up at 2:00 a.m. to be at the garage by 3:00 a.m.

So there has been a plan for Mike to join Bill and I and a trip to Garfield on Thanksgiving that was the plan, and then this morning, talking to Mike on the phone it seems like his Beloved is making plans to come here for Thanksgiving, flying in on Wednesday leaving on Sunday which would take Mike out of the equation of traveling to Garfield.

It seems the beloved just begins things at the last minute, no matter the cost or the difficulty, in a booking for an airplane ticket for 48 hours in advance

After I finish this rigmarole, I’ll get Mike to call to find out the status of this situation. I’ve gotten off the phone with Bill and did not mention it to Bill because I have a feeling Bill would get very upset with this turn of events, and he’s working, and I’m working, but neither one of us needs that smoke
45 years later, actually more like 50 years later, I am reminded of something that happened with William Murphy. I believe the first time I met him, I immediately made fun of him, telling him that his face looked like it had been set on fire and put out with a fork. Which is something my brother used to say as a joke…

From that day forward, William Murphy had it in for me and did all he could to make my four years of high school hell. He succeeded somewhat, but I got through it unscathed and years later remembered that I probably said something really snotty like that to make him hate me and want to kill me, that’s it, and it was cruel. He may have been a nice guy, but I instantly made an enemy of him. I regret that.