Cigar Shack | johnozed

Here I am again at the cigar shack. Where yesterday flew by, today was a day of the crawl. Calvin just left which is giving me this opportunity to get some writing started.

Yesterday I took a Xanax before I came in and today should have been the day for that. But I persevered and it all worked out. It was the brain dead Bradley and Calvin and myself today. It has been an edgy day nonetheless.

Calvin had an idea, right before I went to lunch to do something about the non-communication between the brain dead Bradley and myself. That ruined my lunch somewhat, distracting me from enjoying Keith Richards life.

And I am almost done with Keef’s autobiography and it’s been an enjoyable read which I highly recommend.

Lately I’ve been wrestling with myself and coming to terms with the fact that I am an artist. I’ve always been which could explain why I’m usually out of step with most of the human race. I play guitar, I write, I take photographs, I’ve also shot movies, acted and written poetry.

I guess I wear many hats. I am avoiding the jack of all trades line as well as the Renaissance man label.

But like I said, it’s been a long day and now a customer has just walked in, so guess who gets my attention dear reader. Sorry but it isn’t you. I mean you do get my attention in the space of writing (no not really, I just go into writing mode and ignore most everything with the exception of Bill).

The customer is now gone, he was just browsing. At least he wasn’t tire kicking, which is when a customer asks to see something and then they hem and haw and use the line that I myself had given to sales associates all over the place. ‘I’ll be back’.

I reckon 300 words is a nice enough cut off point until I finish this at home.

And now I am home. Had to close the store you see and also finish a damaged cigar that was in the damaged bin. No one wants to buy a cigar that is unraveling at the foot.

I was out of the shop and waiting on the platform. Caught an express train which got me to the bus terminal rather quickly, but not quick enough to catch an earlier bus. I waited for the 126 bus that I usually catch with Hyman Gross.

The bus driver was quite interested in how Hyman was doing, and seemed sincere. Tonight when I got on the bus and asked the bus driver how he was doing, he merely grunted.

I thought I had a connection of sorts with the driver but apparently I didn’t. Tomorrow night, if and when I get the bus I will try to get an earlier bus and will probably continue to do so until Hyman starts riding the bus again.

Monosyllabic drivers are so passé.

Bill is fast asleep in bed, sleeping soundly and quietly thanks to the new sleep apnea mask. All is well.

I thought this guy was a junkie, turns out he was thoroughly engrossed with his iPhone/Blackberry

That’s the sound of the men working on the chain gang. In this case it’s the sound of the men working in the cigar shack. And in that case, it’s the sound of the man (me) working in the cigar shack.

Thomas and I are closing and the brain dead Bradley has headed home. It’s been a long day and I guess I can safely say the bloom is off the rose. The Good will and good feeling that I had from last Sunday (Ian Hunter/Hyman Gross) to Bill singing the national Anthem at CitiField before the NY Mets/San Francisco Giants game on Tuesday has all but dissipated.

Mainly it was from dealing with the weekend bus riders this morning, truly a misbegotten class. I was dissed twice today by a customer who shook both Thomas’ and the brain dead Bradley’s hands but not mine.

He did the same thing a few hours later when leaving the man cave in the cigar shack. Shook two customers hands there, Dexter and Sherman and once again did not offer his hand and to tell you the truth I didn’t offer mine either. Don’t really care for that Luke character.

And judging by the way he treated his pregnant wife, he’s probably a tiny terror at home as well. Not my problem but I do look forward to when it’s just me manning the fort one night and he will come in all full of himself and I will be standing there with a pin to prick the overinflated ego of the little prick.

Tomorrow is Sunday and so I will not be writing which is nice I think. Looking forward to Saturday Night Live tonight, to see how they will handle the whole Osama Bin Laden thing.

Laundry tomorrow, which I may start tonight when I get home. That actually seems doubtful since I will just finishing writing this and then watching the telly. Though my intentions are good, my follow through is crap. That’s the story of my life, so far at least.

Now I am home after quite a long day. Thomas and I had a few laughs, he is proving himself to be a good comic foil. He does have a good sense of humor and he gets along with the brain dead Bradley and me.

I’ve been training him on closing so perhaps one day down the line, he will be actually closing and I will be able to leave the cigar shack at 9:00 which would be very nice. He did well tonight, a lot better than I did when I was closing.

Perhaps I am a better teacher than I thought, at least better than the teachers I had when I was being trained. The bus ride home was fine until we got to Hoboken, young good looking twenty somethings getting on board the 126 heading to downtown Hoboken and hitting the bars.

Good looking yes, but really dumb. I do not like most of the riders of the bus on the weekends, or anytime really. But that’s behind me now, now that I am home. That’s it for me. No writing tomorrow. Not doing laundry tonight. Cheers.