Grey Green Gospel: So hi, hey, how ya doing gentle reader. I have still been trying to shake off the sad before writing to you but I must stop that. No, I am not always sad. I think I allow myself to be sad because it is so cozy and familiar. Worrying, is the same way for me, it is inherent from my dead folks, I think. But both of these inactive emotions allow me the levity to justify my laziness and my cries of woe for nerves. Nerves, I think I use that one the most. Yesterday afternoon, J and I set up a hoopa together at the CC of landfill. A hoopa is a four post hoo ha that is used for Jewish weddings. The couple and the rabbi stand under the hoopa and drink wine, get married, etc. So, we had to fight the wind. Midway through setup, the wind really started to kick. The cattails licked each other furiously and the swans flew by us sounding their trumpets. I called the shop and made arrangements for tent stakes, rope, etc. and J and I continued to hang onto the hoopa and bitch about the heat and how lousy and unrewarding all this crap is and how it gets worse and worse, etc. etc. the usual stuff. Poor J, only in his mid 50's, my superior, and all during this and for the last two weeks I have known what was going to happen on this day. J's health is failing, he is overweight, overworked, and overwrought with just about everything in his opinion. I had to run and beg for some crackers for J from the beautiful bar boys. He was feeling weak and sick. "Don't diabetics need sugar?" this dark haired delight asked me. "No, it's not that type I said" as I watched his face change as I spoke. Funny how that always happens. I am so accustomed to it that I have grown to expect it. So, J felt better, L showed up with stakes, J disappeared, and I smoked. On the way back, J told me that the bride's mother insisted that he come to the room where the bride and bride's maids were getting ready. The bride said that it was dream come true, etc. etc. J, still a bit weak, was beaming. J had worked at this joint for 8 and half years. When we got back to the shop, I hid up front, J was called to the office, the other designers milled about in the back, and J was fired. He came out and said just that and left. He left with nothing. He will have insurance for a month, maybe, he was told so he can get his operation. So, I guess I am the head designer now. J has been falling apart for some time now. I know you kids will never believe that my job is a stressful one. No one does. And, yes, I know, everyone's job is stressful. This will hopefully be the last time I have to talk about work with you. Hopefully things are changing, hopefully you are still reading, I hope so. I hope I am not boring you shitless. And sorry about the lack of entries, I have been going to bed at about 9 or 9:30, every night this week. Wrought with nerves and guilt about work. Stupid work. Again, work, it is not what I am going to do with my life. I could be dead by morning. So let us write, let us paint, and create something tha engages us all. Love, Me.