Are things getting better for me? It’s hard to tell. Lately, I’ve been waking up filled with despair and depression. I did not feel this way before but lately it’s crippling. Bill stands by my side as he sees me in this state. Each step I take to the Path train feels like my feet are made of lead.

Then I get to the office, and soon enough, I start to improve. I shadow the coworkers who are training me, and they tell me I am doing well. The thing is, I am working at this really good company, but working for a staffing company with my counselor in Seattle, WA.

In the NYC office, I focus on what is going on in front of me and around me. This might get the ire of the staffing agency, but so far, I do not know. I am currently working in Midtown by Herald Square, but next week I will be working downtown by Union Square.

Last night I went to bed around 10:30. The night before, I was in bed after 11:00 PM. Tonight it may be closer to 10:00 PM. As I was trying to sleep last night, my phone rang. It riled me somewhat, and I checked the number, which I did not recognize. I roused myself to turn on my ‘Bedtime Settings’ and drifted off to sleep again.

When I got to the office today, I had some time and dialed the number that called me last night. As I had the landline phone to my ear. Seeing the screen on the phone, I noticed the number that called me was the office phone. It was one of those ‘The calls are coming from inside the house’ moments, like in a horror movie.

I mentioned it to my coworkers, who were surprised and told me that no one would be in the office at that time of night except for the cleaners. No one would have known who would have had my phone number since I didn’t tell anyone. I made a joke about writing the phone number on the bathroom wall. Nonetheless, it was odd and made for a nice anecdote.

Presently, I am exhausted. I do not think it will be a problem, but having written that, I might have jinxed it. Bill is off to pick up the laundry. The bedsheets and whatnot. Though we have a washer, we do not have a dryer or a clothesline, so we would have nowhere for the sheets to dry; therefore, a trip to the laundromat.

Bill doesn’t like the stiffness of air-dried clothes, so he drops off his laundry to be cleaned. He is headed out the door to pick up the laundry before they close. I sit in front of the computer, struggling to keep my eyes open. Bill is just so great, fantastic, and supportive. I plan to stay awake long enough for Bill to come home and make the bed.

It’s quite a low bar I have set.

So damn tired. Day six of the new job. Last Monday in April. A good day was had with Mike while Bill was on the road. Mike enjoys Hoboken. He finds it exciting. He wasn’t here 40 years ago when, for me, it was exciting.

Nowadays, it’s all babies and dogs. Mike likes the new buildings that have popped up, changing the face of neighborhoods and inhabited by newcomers to town who can afford $4000 a month rent or condo fees. That would be no one that Bill or I know, and I doubt if Mike would know anyone in that bracket either.

There was a small art show throughout Hoboken yesterday, and we went to the Neumann Leather Building, where Karyn Kuhl exhibited her art a few doors down from where Tim Daly had his art on display. Karyn and a friend of hers found me to be funny and suggested that I do stand-up comedy.

That brought on a brief talk about how I might do such a thing. I once again brought up this here blog and the intention to do an on-camera thing, inspired by the late Spalding Gray. Where Spalding would sit at a table and read from his journals, those spaces are gone now, and Spalding might be posting online his stories. That raised some eyebrows in a good way.

We met a few other artists, mainly female artists, who had some very nice work. It was a windy spring Sunday, and after leaving Neumann Leather, we wandered back home. Bill soon joined us after his transportation adventure.

We watched Daredevil, which while good, and Bill and I watched for the second time for Mike’s sake. I would have preferred to watch something fun and lighthearted. The other night I came across a business card for Star Bike Shop. That was from the twentieth century.

Julio and I were riding our bicycles from Weehawken to Central Park Summerstage. As luck would have it, I got a flat tire. It was a hot summer day, and there was not much by way of a bike shop in Harlem where we stopped. We wondered what to do when a man with one arm approached us.

He repaired bikes in his apartment and offered to fix my flat tire, we would just have to go to his apartment. I had no problem with that, though Julio was understandably worried. I got a good vibe from the one-armed man. We got to the one-armed man’s apartment after climbing a few flights of stairs, and about 10 minutes later, my flat was fixed and we were on the street.

We were going to a reggae show and suggested that the man join us, but he thanked us, and after paying him $10.00, we were soon crossing 110th Street and entering the park. I don’t remember the band we were seeing, and for some reason, I think it was Burning Spear, though I could be wrong about that. It was a good memory of a time and a world that more than likely does not exist anymore.