I guess it's more of a worry that I can't do anything about it or that anything I could do, would be ineffectual.

I sometimes choose to do nothing, instead of failing which runs contrary to my work life. In work, I take all sorts of risks but the rewards of success are always greater than the tolls of defeat.

I was too busy to finish this post

I think about what I could be doing and compare that to what I am doing. The assessment is always the same: I could be doing more.

I could be doing more but I don't. I don't go out of my way. I do what's convenient. I tell myself that a person who can but doesn't is a lot worse that a person who just can't.

If I'm not too busy, I'll get too busy.

a little pussy

He was in the conference room; I thought he was alone but then I heard the husky whisper. I tried to make out the words or at least identify the voice but I couldn't and then there was a squeak and the whisper changed from some private secret to some dude using a magic marker.

...

I was stuck in that time at the end of the work day when it's too late to start something new but too early to head for the door so I cut a piece of paper into a square and started folding an origami cat.

I think I had agreed at one point in time to fold one for her. She likes cats and that's the reason I know how to fold an origami cat. I folded with precision; I was using vellum and any false fold would stand out as a bright white line on the field of pale gray that vellum appears.

I finished the tail as the last workday minute ticked and slid the paper cat into my shirt pocket. I started my usual route over brick, then granite, then brick again but then I stopped and turned around and got on with my real life.

sometimes I just won't read a blog

Sometimes I don't look.

It's not because I don't wish to see.

But because I might see and still not do anything.


She sent me an email, mainly just to check that she had the address right. I replied with a note and at the end I truly wrote "I miss you" which I then deleted before I sent it.

Honestly, I don't work there

Sure as shoot'n as soon as I rested my chin on my desk at my second job, because the weight of my world is too much for me, I hear someone coming up the stairs.


Sure as shoot'n I've misspelled idyll at some point in my life.


I only notice when she's on my side of the bar but I'm always surprised at how small she is.


Tourists came in like tourists do but these folks were older than the tourists that usually stroll in. They were mid-seventies, I guess.

"Are you some sort of manager?" the husband asked me. He was a seat down from me and he posed his question when the guy to my left went down the stairs to use the bathroom.

I looked around to see if the bartender had heard his question, she had. "Yeah, sort of but I'm a horrible drunk so I stay on this side of the bar."

"This guy likes having you around on this side, doesn't he?" the guy asked pointing to the empty seat.

"Yeah, because if I were on that side, I would have to cut him off."

And was she ever

French Toast isn't a regular item on the menu but the manager ordered it anyway and sat next to me.

"Can you see through this shirt?" D² asked. She had just purchased a new black top from a store two doors away. We both looked at her top. Because I like to be of service, I was doing my best to spot any hint of nipple. I didn't spot any but I did notice it was a bit sheer but off target.

"A little but not where it counts," I said. The manager just continued eating while he continued looking. She looked down to confirm my assessment and then pulled the top a little bit a way from her body and looked through from the inside which gave us both a healthy view of cleavage and even though the two of us weren't actually talking, we both seemed to get very quiet. So, then she pulled her top down a little bit as well.

"Relax boys, I am wearing a bra."



I think it was that new one from Victoria Secret's, the one with no visible lines.


...

So, we got our annual forms to sign: one for sexual harassment and one for work place violence. I have to sign and also have a witness sign.

"Hey you sexy bitch, witness these forms for me or I'll kick your ass."

• • •

I overheard him telling his tale of woe. He said that we did "Like thirty streets..." Thirty seems like a high estimate, my list is right by my side, so I count and finish with nineteen.

...

I was back to my normal routine so I was able to go to lunch in a place of my own choosing. I knew D² was working the day shift so I walked down to see her. I ordered the Caesar Salad with Blackened Chicken.

She set the large plate in front of me.

"Do you want any fresh ground pepper?" Pepper on a salad that already has blackened chicken might seem excessive but that didn't stop me.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to bother you."

"You're no bother," she said as she fetched the wooden pepper mill and started cranking, after a few turns she asked, "Do you want some more or a little less?"

"Yeah, I'd like a little less," I said with a smile.

"That really wasn't an option, Timmy."

"I know. I just wanted to hear what your reply was going to be."

"Yeah, that's it. I'm naive"

"I'm what you call..."

"Naive?" I said.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm naive."

He almost simultaneously thinks everyone is out to get him and that everyone can be trusted. Usually, he's thinking wrongly.

How comes?

I'll stand on the edge and watch him dig, often he doesn't know what he's digging and I've given up on warning him about digging holes.

"How comes you don't help me dig?"

"Because it's, at best, an even deeper hole or, at worst, a grave."

false hope or real despair

I try to give people reason to hope.

And then I wonder: which is more harmful false hope or real despair?

"I like him. He seems pretty laid back but I don't know about that other guy."

"You do the best field sheets."

Two different members of the division I spent a week and a half working with said good things about me, usually our divisions don't speak well of each other. I think the animosity comes about because we work at a distance.

I spend a lot of time telling what could possibly be the other side of the story.

"Oh, I didn't know" I'll hear.

and that's why you shouldn't rush to judgment, I'll think.

"I don't know either. I'm just saying: it could be."

Marlborough's are $5.20 a pack

I see him all the time.

That's not true, but I do see him frequently. He's on the way from where I am during the day and where I go after work.

That's not true either he's on my way to the ATM that doesn't charge me a fee, that is near to where I go after work. He's also on the way if I walk up the back street from the bar to the subway.

I don't know if he's homeless or just a beggar. He usually has a sign. The one I liked best read "Need a hooker and a case of beer" he said the cops made him get rid of it. The sign he has now reads "I want a case of beer and a black eye from some brunette."

I fancy brunettes, too.

I don't know if he notices me or not. Sometimes I'll toss him a buck.

"Hey buddy, do you have a smoke?"

"Sorry. I don't smoke." I replied without missing a step but then I turned around. "But do you know what? I'll get you a pack. What do you smoke?"

He told me that he smokes Marlborough or Newports. I don't smoke but I thought the difference was like between a Sam Adams and a Bud Light. I walked half a block around the corner to the 7 Eleven and bought him Marlboroughs.

"Here you go." I said as I passed him down the smokes and a pack of matches.

"I thought you were kidding"

"Naw. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. A lot of people like to mess with me."

I lost a little bit of faith in human nature after I heard him say that even though I know the Financial District crowd isn't really keen on beggars, even though he told me something I already knew. The guy isn't much of a bother. He makes his request and politely accepts any answer he's given. And when he says "Have a nice day," he doesn't say it snidely.

Just because he reminds folks of things that don't want to be reminded of doesn't mean he should get more of a hard time, or at least that is what I think.

I think it's sound that bothers me most.

The sound of her voice
The sound of him chewing
The sound of dead silence

So,

Lately, I'll be breezing around the internet and a blog post will come to mind so I'll crank up Word and once it's done doing what ever it does I type my traditional 'So' and then the lights go off.

So, that happened right now.


So, I had to change my user name over at librarything.com because my sister topped the list of books that I share with other users. Fortunately, she has about 2500 titles so on her list I was unnoticed at the bottom. We share 16 books so far, if I ever find where I have my boxes of books, that number will go up. I should steal some titles from her list but I'm not going to sort through that many titles.

maybe thirty three I could work with

So, mostly I don't give a crap as long as I have an excuse or reason that will hold up to questions.

So, if I'm running the show and we're on time and folks finish ahead of schedule for a particular day, folks get to leave early.

And, you know what? When the next day comes and we're not ahead of schedule but more right on schedule and you say you have to leave early – that's okay too because I can explain and justify being on schedule but on the third day when someone wants to leave three hours early which will fuck us over on the schedule – I have a problem with that.

I guess leaving an hour and a half early after a relatively easy day wasn't good enough. And I really don't give a crap but at least give me a chance to explain it away to the bosses because if it comes down to who is going to catch the shit, it ain't going to be me, when it was you that screwed the hooch.

You need something.

"Yeah, we did eighty installations."

"Yeah, we completed eleven rows."

"Yeah, we finished six areas."

You need some hard impressive number, whether it's impressive in reality or not. It has to sound good.

"Yeah, we finished that neighborhood."

"Yeah, seventy slips were completed."

"Yeah, all the blue requests are finished."


You need something, something completed. Twenty four doesn't cut it.