I Will Wait For You

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I know, I know it’s Sunday. Why am I writing? Doesn’t John Ozed take Sundays off? Well after last night’s maudlin report, the suicide hotline called me to see if everything was alright. I was despairing last night over $49.50. It was pointless.

After writing I just wallowed. Bill came home and noticed my emotional absence. We watched Saturday Night Live and Bill laughed a lot. I was hollow in my wallow. I also took half a Xanax to help me get over it and thought it helped a little bit.

Bill went to bed as I watched Chris Brown as the musical guest and realized that all auto tune songs sound like they all have the same singer, which is pretty stupid when you look at it, or listen to it.

Bill was soon fast asleep in bed and I stayed up to watch the whole show. It was not worth staying up but I was waiting for the Xanax to kick in. Eventually I too was in bed, taking my position on the left. Bill was wearing his sleep apnea mask which interrupted my sleeping, the air was leaking out quite loudly and to me it sounded like a tornado at a beach resort.

Whatever stage of sleep I had reached, the sound of the apnea mask quickly brought me to the surface. And the Xanax did not achieve its desired effect for I was pissed.

I once again followed my advice and got out of bed and after about 20 minutes of sitting in front of the computer I went back to bed and found Bill had adjusted the mask and it now sounded like a steady hissing which did not interfere with my sleep.

I still only got about 5 hours of decent sleep. I was awake a little after 8:00 this morning and got myself ready for work. Bill had just gotten out of bed a few minutes before I left, and kissed him goodbye as he sat on the edge of the bed.

The 9:30 bus arrived and I got on, another uneventful ride above ground and under ground. I was opening the store with Der Fred (the Palindrome) who was scheduled to come in at 11:00. I got some breakfast and coffee and recounted all the money I was in contact with and it turns out that I was so burnt out last night that it was my miscount over and over was needless since I wasn’t getting it right, at all.

This morning, after some rest and fresh eyes, I found what happened. A few misplaced/miscounted bills were found and a $49.50 weight was lifted off my shoulders.

John Ozed Shrugged.

I was able to watch some of the morning shows as I ate my egg sandwich and drank some coffee. A little before 11:00 the Palindrome arrived and announced himself by knocking on the glass doors. Soon after that the Palindrome started complaining.

It’s too cold. I’m bored. What time is lunch? Whine whine whine. I’m reluctant to touch the thermostat in the cigar shack and so I suggested he do some work in the humidor where it’s always 70°.

It’s too humid in there, the Palindrome whined, and what would I do?
Straighten things out I suggested.
Straighten what out? The things I straightened out before I left last night?

That is the cigar shack experience. The Palindrome was so upset that he actually stopped talking, after he mentioned that he felt like quitting right then and there. If you recall, he constantly mentions how he is the assistant manager at a big hotel and doesn’t need the part time money.

I even offered my suit jacket so he would be warm. But he was method acting the role of martyr. Little did he know I teach a master class in martyrdom.

The Palindrome has worked weekends before and it’s generally colder for some reason. You would think that he would figure out how to dress when working a Saturday or Sunday. And not wear a tight black sweater and black trousers which show off the muffin top quality of his 33 year old torso.

Overall it was like working with an old woman. And he was dressed all in black so you can probably figure out what kind of old woman the Palindrome resembled both inside and out.

The closing went well, everything accounted for. Bill stopped by before closing with some Hoboken chocolates that he picked up after he say Hyman Gross in the hospital. And also harpy made an appearance in the cigar shack and so it was a very nice day after all despite the old lady dressed in black.

I really appreciated the fact that the Palindrome didn’t really speak to me for the next 5 hours.

Oh yeah, one more thing…it was Beatles day today. I played Live at the BBC, Let It Be, Abbey Road, 4 Tracks from Yellow Submarine, White Album, Magical Mystery Tour, Sgt Pepper, Revolver & Rubber Soul. That definitely helped my day along.

That’s it. A Sunday Edition.






You can't out martyr me.

I Will Drink the Wine

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Wow, yesterday was quite a good day, at least mood wise for me and today was the opposite of that. I did well sales why yesterday as well as today, but right now the main thing on my mind is why my drawer was short $49.50.

I counted the money a number of times, counted the money in the safe, counted the cash deposits and everything was in order except for my drawer. I didn’t steal the money and even now I’m not sure if it’s actually missing.

Tomorrow I will recount over and over and will even have Der Fred do some counting as well. Today it was the Bradley and Der Fred. The Bradley has been somewhat under the weather, coughing and hacking and burping all over the place as well as sounding like crap.

Der Fred did his usual spiel of how he doesn’t need the job, he has a full time job as an assistant manager at a big hotel in midtown, and how he just works part time at the cigar shack to get a discount on cigars which he loves so much.

And also the other spiel of how he can’t believe that I do this job day in and day out, polishing windows and standing around waiting for a customer to come through the door. And he whines about how bored he is working there. I told him if he doesn’t need the job, if he doesn’t need the money he should just leave. He said he wouldn’t do that, his love of tobacco is that strong and demanding.

I told him that boring people usually get bored and I’m hardly ever bored. I have an imagination which is always active. So active that it feeds these artistic impulses I have every day, almost every time I turn my head, I see art.

And that’s why I always carry a camera. I suppose it’s a Duchampian ideal, that something is art because I say it is. Something catches my eye and if I walk past it, I regret it so I usually turn around and take a photo, which is what I did tonight.

Even walking through the bus terminal under a heavy cloud, I look on the floor and see something that gets my attention, so I turn around and take a snapshot. Tonight after the counting over and over I was waiting for the bus and had a feeling I would see Lois DiLivio and sure enough, Lois and her husband Fred show up.

They had just seen a cabaret act at Don’t Tell Mama and were quite happy. Then I told them my tale of woe and inadvertently brought them down to my level, or at least unconsciously tried to. They were sympathetic of course, Fred telling me how things like that happen at the supermarket where he works. I know he tried to help, but it didn’t.

I also mentioned that I have a feeling that I’ve been set up. I did tell Calvin a few weeks ago how burnt out I was, after earlier that day telling him how the cigar selling business will soon be over. I probably should not have said that, since selling cigars is more than likely the only thing Calvin knows how to do. If they charge me with theft, then the company wouldn’t have to approve any unemployment benefits to which I am entitled.

Maybe it’s my usual everyday paranoia. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they did do something as underhanded and as nasty as that. They love the Bradley, he’s their guy. Marcus and Calvin wonder where the passion is, the passion that I showed when I was interviewed last May.

I just heard from Hyman Gross. He’s still in the hospital, he has gout. Bill is going to visit him tomorrow and along with the newspapers Bill will bring for Hyman, Hyman asked if he could borrow my phone charger. I have 2 and could spare one for as long as he might need it.

It brought to mind something that Pedro said the other night on the phone, something that I usually tell other people, that someone is always worse off than you. And here was Hyman telling me how good I have it, to have someone like Bill to come home to.

And he’s right. I do have it good and won’t let $49.50 get me down. That’s much easier said than done.