Last day of 54

My quiet period continues. I hardly spoke to anyone at work today because my pod was empty except for myself and there hardly anyone in view around me. It was dead on the phones too. I had a couple ranters who just needed to blow off steam repeating the same complaints multiple times although they had already talked to other agents earlier in the day and had nothing to add. I just let them rant on for 10 minutes each and didn't let them get under my skin.

The sidewalks around Harbour Centre where I work are torn up as City workers lay new concrete. Because I can't get around the obstacles with my disability I cannot get to or from my building without using the bus. In a day or two the sidewalks will re-open.

It is quiet at home today too, so I took the opportunity to visit the Cafe Bollagio where my two former couch surfers Eric and Fred work. Last week Fred had asked me to pay them a visit this week so I did. Fred was there in all his handsome sweetness. I caught him by surprise. He came over to my table and, turning his cheek, invited me to give him a little kiss. There is no greater statement of friendship than a straight boy inviting you to kiss him in public while he is at work. I kissed him gently on his lower jaw just below his ear and he wasn't a bit self-conscious.

I told him he looked great, which he always does, but he was looking a bit worse for wear. He was sick with a serious hangover yesterday and, in a masochistic binge, has also decided to stop smoking. He says he's ready to slit his wrists. But he says it will be better tomorrow. His new Iranian girlfriend is cooking him dinner.

Eric wasn't working so I didn't get to see him, and Fred was quite busy so I watched the video playing in restaurant of views of southern Italy from the air. It was very captivating, but definitely a terrain I can no longer handle. Fred paid my bill though I hope he did not think I was visiting the restaurant for that reason. I left him a big tip and sauntered home in the 28C heat.

My first birthday card this year, from friends in Winnipeg, and a large tax refund waiting for me at home. I will lay back in the dark of my over-heated apartment and watch on a DVD rental that arrived in the mail yesterday, a gay parody called "Dear Boys".


"I don’t know why people have a problem quitting smoking. I’ve done it a thousand times." - Groucho Marx