I Don’t Care

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Oh it was quite a lovely day. The sun came up and Bill kissed me goodbye once again. He was looking quite nice in his work attire. From out of nowhere a puppy dog came running in and licked his face, then an hour later that same puppy dog ran in and licked me awake before vanishing into thin air.

I made some excellent coffee and fixed myself a bowl of Lucky Charms before stepping into the shower. It was a wonderful shower, one of the best ever. I think in the history of indoor plumbing, you would be hard pressed to have a shower as utterly fantastic as the one that I had this morning.

I dried my hair and got into some clean underwear and sat and had some coffee and ate my frosted moons and marshmallow clovers and read the bible. Such a good book it is. Read some emails after that and watched the Today show where Al Roker and Barbara Corcoran talked about some really fabulous real estate throughout the country.

Property that is exquisite and that I hope to own someday. It was uncanny, how did they know I desired a mansion in Greenwich, CT with a man made pond so near the horse stables? Uncanny. I soon donned my gray flannel suit and headed out to the bus stop.

A foggy day to start out with, but the sun promised to come out and shine shine shine. And it did. I walked to the subway, smiling at my fellow riders and got off at my stop. I was early so I sat in the shadow of a skyscraper and talked to Bill for a few minutes on the phone.

Soon I was skipping over to the cigar shop, greeting Don who was behind the register. Marcus and Calvin were in the middle of an interview with a amiable young man and the next interview, another amiable young man paced around the shop waiting for his turn at bat. Young amiable man exited and the second took his place.

I rang up sales with Don and the day was progressing nicely. About 45 minutes later the second interviewee left and Marcus and Calvin hunkered down in the the office while Don and I competed for that 1/3 of 1% commission.

Things were progressing nicely when Calvin came out and told me to go to the humidor and do the work that Sean was supposed to do yesterday. That took me out of the running for the commissions, allowing Calvin who more than likely gets more than 1/3 of 1% commission to get whatever I would have earned, but at a lesser rate.

So I was off the floor doing a part timer’s job (Sean will be in tomorrow, probably too busy cleaning his nails with an exacto knife to to the job himself) So Calvin decided to move me off the floor. I didn’t care really. I even told Don that the 1/3 of 1% commission is bullshit and didn’t care for it anymore.

I was able to head out for lunch allowing Calvin to take his 2.5 hour lunch/smoke a cigar/have a drink break. I spoke with Bill again but he was rushed since he was trying to leave his job early so he could drive to Atlantic City again.

I made it back to work and went back into the humidor. Where I usually pick out most of the music in the store I decided to let Calvin have his way and listen to that dead music, that jazz. He left the shop about an hour after Don and finally I played some music made in the past 5 years by living people.

I left the store, not caring about much at all, and now here I am, caring even less.

I’ve Seen the Saucers

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Man I really don’t want to write tonight. Not much to write about. Work, blah blah blah. Bill sleeps in the next room. The TV is on, Keith Olbermann bellowing. Sent a few more resumes out today.

Was able to leave the cigar shop and have an hour to myself, sitting on a bench by the park. It’s always the same isn’t it? Right now I sit, listening and posting videos from Scritti Politti on Facebook.

Occasionally my day focused on the job I used to have at Putnam Lovell as well as Bio-IB. Putnam Lovell because it was really a good job before it went south. I inadvertently got out of there at the right time.

They were trying to get rid of me, but I actually left and wound up at Wolff Olins for 9 months. In those 9 months at Wolff Olins, I did get to see Scritti Politti live at the Bowery Ballroom.

That was splendid and foolish me, I should have stayed a little while longer at the show to shake Green Garstide’s hand. Or at least polish Rhodri Marsden’s eyeglasses. But I had too much too drink, too much of that black beer. Still however skewed my memories might be, I do recall having a good time.

Thinking about Bio-IB was mainly since the United Nations is in session and all the figureheads are in town on the east side. That was generally a good time, hectic with streets blocked off but interesting and somewhat exciting all the same.

I did get in touch with Greg Stevens a week or so ago, asking if he had any employment leads. He didn’t but told me Vivek had started working at a new company I sent Vivek a text message wishing him well and fishing for a job offer. No response from him.

I guess the scheme of selling boxes preloaded with movies to Asian Indian hotel and motel owners along the east coast fell by the wayside. Haven’t heard from Harpy lately. I blew up at him when I was feeling vulnerable and the next day apologized for it.

Oh well, perhaps he’s doing his William Holden imitation. Where is his Stephanie Powers when he needs her? Maybe he’s doing a Marie Provost act instead since William Holden was too butch and Harpy could have probably filled Marie Provost’s shoes better.

Oh how the past haunts me. Much more than the present I might add.

I received $100.00 from Google as a way of saying thanks for using Ad Sense on this here blog. But I don’t use Ad Sense so the $100.00 card is worthless, unless I am in dire need of a bookmark. Actually it’s no good since it expired on September 3rd.

So a bookmark it is. It was supposed to help me attract more of the visitors that I really want: loyal visitors who keep coming back. And according to Google Analytics, I do have some loyal visitors. Mainly in New York but on the other side of the country as well.

They keep coming back for some reason. They never write though. They’re just numbers I guess. That’s right, you are just a number. Don’t take it personally, even though it might be odd.