Working is no problem 9.2.2025
Thinking about the 90s and going on an artist studio tour in an industrial building in Jersey City with William and Julio.
Judging the art
By the food and drink that was offered

New toy
Today is the day I found out something that I just forgot
At my desk at the fruit stand, The Doobie Brothers are singing Black water and I am transported back to a car driven by Mrs Marjorie Williams with daughter Barbara singing along to this song that I had never heard until that moment.

It is September 2nd, it is my least favorite time of year, it is full of memories of dread with having to go back to school. Summer’s over, no more fun, back to school. Hit the books

Mike came over yesterday we hung out and threw on a Harry Potter movie that he watched from time to time when not looking at his phone. That thing is Mike’s right I am connected to my computer the way he is connected to his phone
It’s the same and yet it is not the same

Bill was driving people to and fro the Port Authority in MetLife Stadium for the Oasis show. Oasis or a lot bigger than I had imagined them to be, still don’t care for them though, Friends of mine do.

So the feeling of dread I’ve been carrying around for about 45 years which is when I last attended School. It pops up almost every year at this time, and it’s not a good feeling but it’s not the worst, but it’s all in my head.

I did the bike ride on Sunday at about 13 mi,les and I rested quite well. Mike was supposed to come over on Friday was supposed to come over on Saturday but supposed to come over on Sunday came over on Monday.

My ardor has cooled considerably. I am fine with that. I have no idea whether or not Mike is. No more overtures. He put it upon himself, I’m not sticking around, I mean, I will stick around, but not in that sense. I’m not sure if Mike had even noticed.

But I will say this, now that Bill has found out about the shenanigans between Mike and me, those affection for me has increased noticeably, and I am grateful. Perhaps he was afraid of losing me to Mike. I might be an idiot, but I am no fool.

I will have lunch in 2 hours, chicken penne and pesto, which I made yesterday, and of course made a special batch without pesto for Mike
Mike has hundreds of online admirers, and of course, most of them are miles and miles away. There are some nearby, and then there is Joe Jaworski, who remains at large and on the loose after fleeing the spelling bee, spelling paisan as pizza ann. Not a bright guy, but like birds of a feather etc etc

Taking it to the streets by The Doobie Brothers, it was a big deal back then in the 1970,s especially when they made a guest appearance on What’s Happening

Lunch time at my spot or next to my spot on Tuesday, September 2nd, 2025. It is a Tuesday, yet it feels like a Monday. I’ve had four days off, and things are slow today, especially the clock and time passing by

I’m next to my usual spot because somebody left a pile of what looks like baby clothes where I usually sit, so I will not bother the pile of baby clothes or toddler clothes I sit a yard away
Jackhammers go off nearby, yet it’s loud, but I suppose it’s necessary

Mike has circadian rhythm problems. He’s been working from 10:45 to 6:45 p.m. to a.m., so his whole sleep schedule is upended. I just spoke to Bill, who tells me Mike is still asleep
It’s easy enough to do that when you’re younger, IE not 44 years old, and as one age,s it does take its toll.
And working is no problem, a song from Pylon, Gyrate LP

It’s a good job, a job that I enjoy going to, and I enjoy the people I work with, even though Marcus just walked by with a bag of Chick-fil-A and basically bragged that he was eating Chick-fil-A. He’s unconcerned with LGBT people being killed in Africa, funded by Chick-fil-A profits

Photo is of Laura ‘Arrot’ Hartford
Harold Wind, aka Windy
His name popped into my head when I saw a young man walking on the street with his hands and his pockets, and I was reminded of something about 40-plus years ago when Windy asked if I was playing pocket pool when I had my hands in my pockets…HBJ daze

Almost 1:30, I’m taking a half an hour lunch hour
Unwarranted drama between Bill, Mike, and me, and I’m not even involved, and yet I am dragged into it in much confusion.

Saturday, August 30.
I’m in Tribeca. In the same spot I used to spend my lunch break on Thomas Street, once again, I sit and smoke a cigar. No anxiety that used to occur back in the day.
I was hoping that the Pixel 6a microphone would work. So I sit and type and smoke.
Mike is out of the picture due to things that he has to deal with.
Bill is preparing for the afternoon matinee of Postal Madness.
I am going to the Pleasure Chest.
The line for the Oasis pop-up shop is around the block
It was just said that I’m a ‘smooth nigga‘

Santiago Cohen
I knew you
35 years ago
For less than an hour
Yet your flame burns
In my heart
As I pass
Your former residence

It was a four day work week for me, and since I took a personal time off from work, I also did the same for writing. Yet, today I found myself somehow wanting to write. Or as Truman Capote said of Jack Kerouac, ‘That’s not writing, that’s typing.’ Perhaps in that sense, I am akin to Jack Kerouac.

I walked about 10 miles, though one or two miles was spent being transported on the ferry from the mainland to Manhattan. The PATH station is closed this weekend in Hoboken, and the ferry was just $3.00. I call that a bargain.

I walked through the neighborhood of Bratty McGrotty and I was tempted before heading out to make some anti-Joselito Semana stickers but I thought better of it and continued to think even less of it.

I saw an AVL3 post on social media smoking an Oliva cigar and decided that I, too, would enjoy an Oliva cigar. I lit up outside the store where I used to sometimes buy a cigar at lunc,h and walked to Thomas Street where this post started.

It was a leisurely walk through some former stomping grounds. No emotional attachments, just memories of jobs and shops where friends used to work 40 years ago. I strolled and enjoyed my cigar, not sticking around long enough to see if anyone was bothered by the smoke. I myself was a bit concerned with looking like a tourist, of which there were many.

I made it to the Pleasure Chest just as I was finished with the Oliva cigar. I walked in, it was narrower than last time I was there and I was certain I was there before, possibly with dear Pedro whom I am fondly missing today for some reason. Oh, the hard time he would give me for associating with Mike.

The Pleasure Chest did not have what I wanted, and their suggestions were out of my price range. I did find an item which might have satisfied my curiosity, but only time will reveal that.

40 years ago, or even 30 years ago, walking around Manhattan on a pleasant summer afternoon would not have been too much of a big deal. Today I am feeling it.