I cannot get over the suspicion that I’ve been horribly maltreated by Nruns. I’ve been reviewing what I was doing for them a year ago. I learned a bit of timing, set up a split map for one of the Donuts races on Gov Is. (The 10k; we just had a repeat the other day.) Then Dec 7, driving the BNV at 2:30 am from warehouse to PP,  behind Katie with her UHaul truck gate flipping up after a couple of turns; setting up Finish mats with the negro Aaron, but we were taking too long (because the Finish placement kept changing) so Bryan the Mexican did those mats. I watched over the split mat up the hill toward Bartel-Pritchard, temps at 15ºF but felt more like -5ºF. Grace Kim supervising, bringing me herbal tea from Dunkin or Starbucks. A bit of hand-timing finishers in that race, just for practice. That was it. Finally, the following week I did the split mat in the Big Apple Half, 5k mark in by the woods near Lasker Pool.

After this, no more timing work for me. What happened? Something I’m going to complain to Jen about, and hopefully do it tactfully. “I’m just a pair of hands these days. It’s like being back in the Volunteer days…when the come-on to volunteers is that you might be offered paying part-time work…which kept a few of us around a bit longer than we might have stayed, but after a couple of years it became clear this was never going to happen. Ha ha ha. And whatever became of Tina, I wonder?”

The Donuts runs this past Sat and Sun. Some marshaling over by Andes Rd, east side of island. Next Saturday, a marathon and half-marathon, and a ‘marathon’ shift of over 12 hours, beginning at 3:30 am in Prospect Park.

Looking east, to Brooklyn

Have been submitting last documents to the HRA site for SNAP. Also I think I had to send something in for Medicaid, but I never received a form in the mail, so have now printed it out.

The government shutdown did not affect me much in the past few weeks. My SNAP came in a week late, by which time my account was down to $14. When replenished a few days ago, I bought ingredients for a Chris Kimball ’emergency chocolate cake’ which you make with cocoa powder, flour, confectioners’ sugar, and oil. And coffee. Not bad. Other than that I have nearly nothing edible left in the house.

Pro forma letter from SSA in the past day, local office. About Jenn Rubin representing me. That is a followup on our meeting a month ago, but because of the shutdown nothing was done. We get towards the end of the year, and with recalculation my SS monthly benefit should go up to about $2200, maybe more. But that doesn’t matter. I need the back benefits commencing with 2017 in order to pay back rent. At a minimum that is $2400 a year. Four years is about $10,000, eight years is $20,000, as of next month we are nine years in arrears. The maximum could be twice that.

Anchor and Nruns together get me between $1000 and $1500 per month right now, though I don’t feel it, and Nruns spaces out its payroll and races in such a way that the races you work on this weekend won’t hit your bank for another three weeks. This coming Friday I get paid for working the Expo at Javits two weeks ago, day before the NYC Marathon. That will be a bit over $100. I told myself a year ago that I’d be just making it if I could make another $1000-$1500, and that seems about right. Barely.

Some distribution of black puffer jackets for Nruns at the last races (Haunted Island). One for Bryan Garcia, one for Charlie Scanlon. Not for me. You have to work through a full winter. Well I’ve done a full winter and a half. Nothing for me. I am not too bitter. I got my orange or coral lululemon bag two weeks ago, last of its color in the shop (TWC), paid for mainly with my jury duty check ($72) so I’m okay. Still I think I’m getting stiffed.

Spent all afternoon with Grimm last Monday. We smoked boo with his n, and the n’s brother, who had a terrific pong. Not quite nauseating. Bringing G some printouts today.

Have not heard from Dottie. What about Thanksgiving? When is Thanksgiving? Oh, it’s the 27th, that’s next week. Tomorrow is Moki’s birthday. I should do a memorial Mass for him, perhaps at St Malachy’s. Too late to schedule it for tomorrow but perhaps for next week, anniversary of his death, the 24th or 25th. Feast Day of St. Moki.

A bit after midnight at Rem Schoen’s on East 70th Street, early Thursday morning. I was a bit pissed off to learn I was being dropped from Eddie Song next Sunday (‘they found someone else’—probably someone more confident with the Hoyer), but now sitting here at Rem’s, drinking a little v I snuck in, and trying to pay attention to her when she talks when she’s not always lucid and can’t make out my replies (doesn’t have hearing aid in), I realize I really hate this stuff. I was feeling rather triumphant the last couple of days, thinking I’d have maybe $900 hitting the WF acct on Friday, but really that’s nothing. Downloaded all my paystubs from Anchor this afternoon. Now that’s four months so far, and the net pay in that time is tiny. I mean, I didn’t think it would be much, but…oh wait, 4489 YTD? More than I’d expected. Meaning year-end earnings for Anchor alone will be nearly 8000. That plus nruns will be something like 14,000. Scary.

Rem coming in on her walker.

Shelves in R’s hallway by the door

I have slept for most of the past three days. Friday, Saturday afternoon and evening, Sunday. Up now after 4 am Monday. In and out of sleep much of the time. Sometimes in dreamy half-sleep where the dreams flow in and out and I cannot follow a thought for more than two seconds if I try to. Wore the Strasburg Sock for a while. Plantar fasciitis getting bad in right heel. The sock helped a little after many hours.

Rent, money, suicidal thoughts. Eventually, I expect, some money will come through from the Social Security. $20k min, however you calculate it. As much as twice that maybe. Meantime I’m skint. To William Street two weeks ago, Mobilization for Justice, to meet little Jenn, the oriental with a Jewish married name. Very nice. She’s taking care of the SS portion of my problem. Big blustery Meaghan W a week later. I have to double-check my checks to Jeffries Morris and get back to her. She sent me an accounting with the missing checks from JMI’s end. That was last Tuesday.

Last Wednesday was jury duty. A one-day special. Nobody got empaneled, we were released at 4pm. The pay is now $72 per diem. Wow. For years and years it was $40. And the check came when it came. I went to Walker’s for lunch. John Harty there. Told me I was Number Six, the sixth person ever to order a Coke (or whatever) when on jury duty. Others all say they need a drink. Well, yes, when you’re on a long trial, day after day.

To Prospect Park at 3:30am on Saturday. Falling Leaves Half Marathon. I worked on Finish. I heard Bryan Garcia talking to some new trainees for Timing. I have decided that he is the one who decided to ding me for the timing gig, which I did only two or three times at the end of last year. Not sure I’d ever wish to do that again, but I’m sorely pissed at the way I was treated. Mainly it was barricades and mesh, put ’em up, take ’em down, stand out on West Drive for a couple of hours in front of the Finish chute.

Finally walked to Bartel-Pritchard around 12:45pm. Crowds at the square for the silly “No Kings” gathering. Reports say there were “thousands” protesting there and in Times Square.

I thought I had a Bellevue appointment this week, Oct 24th I vaguely remembered, but I don’t. Looking at the MyChart it appears I may have had a telephone interview on the 16th. Must phone them this week. I have two mega objections to the records so far. First, Schiffman put me down as having the CTCL in remission. It certainly was not in remission. Then, I now notice it put me down as weighing 172 lbs. The only weight information I ever gave was last December, saying 145 lbs. It may well have been more than that, but never anywhere near 172.

Depressed and pissed off all over. I needed that sleep. Grimm gave me a little boo last Monday, and I went through it for the next three days. It didn’t provoke anxiety, the way the stuff often does. I did go through one or two sleepless nights.

Sent Michael Harrington a thank you letter, long an digressive, about Yale in the CSA. Rewrote it about three times because of the boo.

Missed Mass again and again. Must fix that. Confession, communion. Dig myself out of this morass.

To Jeffries Morris Inc., 29 Broadway, today to drop off the copies of the lease renewals. They are not finished without the SCRIE. But I have to have the landlord signature to get the SCRIE.

I walked up to Walker’s. A long walk. Stopped at Whole Foods on E side of Bway, got hot honey, another noodle soup, some Mexican shredded cheese, something else. At Walker’s was John Harty, older, greyer. I passed on the burger plate I’d thought about ($20 now!) and since there was no calamari app any more I had chili. By far the best chili I’ve ever had, on a par with the very best I made two years ago.

At home on this terribly humid night (it drizzled for a few hours) I cut up the remains of the cooked chick thighs and heirloom tomatoes and onions, and started to make myself a kind of quesadilla. Forgot the cheese, but only had one flour tortilla anyway.

Wanted to get the laundry done today, and the “Interference” reviews off to Greg this evening. Tomorrow, Thurs, will be okay. He asked me in email a week ago if I’d go down and really debrief Fredericka Yockey in Houson. Of course I will, esp since he is paying. But I need to phone Dr Y first.

A half-pint last night and tonight, from the chinawoman’s.

Anchor booking for a few hours with a Jewish guy on the the UWS on Friday. (Wednesday night now.) I am going to need to do at least 25 hrs per week with Anchor for here on out.

No exercise today apart from walking. Have not been to TMPL for workout of any kind in months. Tomorrow? Yes.

Listening to a strange compilation on Audible called The Quest for Queen Mary, consisting of the notes of James Pope-Hennessy’s bio of her. Entertaining, esp. the bits with the Duke and Duchess of W.

Watched Topsy-Turvy (with TUBI commercial interruptions) yest and today. Much better than I remembered, and I remembered it very well. Signed and fake-witnessed the lease renewal copies while I did this, and did cover letter to P Warren at JMI, saying I’m waiting for the SCRIE, but they need the signed lease…did I do this right? I apologize.

Laura after me last night (email) about whether she’s welcome, what am I doing, and black mange, or black mold. I told her I’m mainly worried about being evicted.

Apropos of nothing but a link in this blog from 2019, I go to an old staff listing in the SDR and find that someone has inserted additional information into my old article list. Namely that I was let go in 1993 and threatened litigation on account of discrimination. This didn’t happen. There was indeed a lawsuit, eventually settled, but it was on account of continued harassment by a few individuals, not discrimination (what an odd spin!). Then there are two MB articles mentioned, the 2023 one about Colin, and the 2019 about George M., the latter mistakenly bylined M. E. At least two other articles ran 2018-2019, both of them covers. I’m curious now to see who’s on staff there now. Lickona still editor, Matt Potter some kind of chief editor. Still there.

Will I be evicted? I don’t know the status of the SCRIE, apparently because the lease has to be signed by both parties to be in effect. I’m not going to have much income in the next few weeks because I do not have a job apart from the odd Anchor hours (few of which I have taken in the past month), and the paltry nruns work. Laura emails me to say she’s looking at some job in the area and can she still stay with me, and will I pleased take care of the wet carpet, which will be moldly? I really don’t need this shit right now.

Have three pieces to get off to CC right away:

1. Adventures in the Autograph Trade, with H. Keith Thompson.
2. Yockey and the Nuremberg Bullies (complaints about Rosenfeld and others)
3. “Russia Collusion” Confusion: Truthiness Was Never the Issue

Ease in writing follow that in ascending order. The HKT thing could write itself: he’s listed as NYC corporate executive, but what sort of corporate executive is never quite mentioned, or the name of the corporation. But it turns it was a small but very high-profile autograph dealership in Manhattan called Hamilton Galleries, where H. K. was executive vice president for many years. In its heyday, Hamilton Galleries (aka Charles Hamilton Autographs) was hard to miss. It often took the back page of the New York Times Book Review to advertise some of its more eye-catching wares, generally letters from dead writers and statesmen. In the news pages, the Hamilton enterprise got a lot of press as well, in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, frequently concerning autographs and letters from Mr. or Mrs. John F. Kennedy; correspondence of Lee Harvey Oswald, and signed photos of Richard Nixon, Henry Kissinger, and Greta Garbo. Perhaps its biggest splash came in 1983 during the “Hitler Diaries” brouhaha, when proprietor Charles Hamilton was the first to slam the supposed diaries as colossal forgeries. (In England, historian Hugh Trevor-Roper had accepted them as genuine, while David Irving initially declared them fakes, then hedged his bets.) But by this point H. K. was well out of the Hamilton concern, and was publishing his own book, Doenitz at Nuremberg: A Reappraisal (1983) a compilation of dozens upon dozens of testimonies from prominent figures (diplomats, armed-service officers, historians) in defense of Admiral Karl Doenitz, the last head of state in National Socialist Germany. I first knew him a few years later, and never once heard him mention his career with the Hamilton Galleries. But I gathered he’d had occasional dealings with them over the years, and regarded Charlie and wife Diane Hamilton as a bit shady, concerned mostly with profiteering and self-promotion. But books and news stories leave no doubt about the matter. H.K. worked for them as a key senior manager, from about 1953 to sometime in the 1970s. In Charles Hamilton’s many books we find acres of praise for Thompson, effectively his 2-i-c. There H.K.  was a key authority on such matters as Third Reich personalities, the correspondence of G. S. Viereck, and the use of the Autopen, the robot signature machine which was virtually a state secret until exposed by Thompson and Hamilton:

No secret weapon was ever more assiduously regarded, and White House aides vehemently deny that the robot exists [wrote Charles Hamilton]. “There is no machine,” insisted Pierre Salinger, press secretary to President Kennedy… The Autopen 50 is top secret wherever it is used and no outsiders are ever permitted to see it… I pulled every string, resorted to every plea, in order  to have a look at this remarkable machine…. Finally, from the Chase Manhattan Bank, I got a tip from a certain large insurance company in new York whihch had an Autopen 50. Our executive vice president, H. Keith Thompson Jr., had worked for this company when a young man. He approached the vice-president of the insurance company, explaining that we were interested in viewing the machine, and had been referred to him by Mr. DeShazo, the reputed inventor.

Keith made an appointment for himself and “several friends”… Keith was jovial, full of reminiscences about the old days with the firm…

And so H. Keith Thompson, and Charlie and Diane Hamilton and their crew, oohed and aahed and generally played dumb, while experimenting with this Autopen contraption, and took dozens of photographs of the “robot” in operation.

“We don’t like to make an investment without really looking over what we buy,” explained Keith.

Diane Hamilton tries the Autopen 50, circa 1964.

Just reupped T-Mobile for another $44.

Group run in PP tomorrow eve, but I can’t possibly make it. Not in shape at all. Need to take an hour or so off today and try to jog in CP.

About $2000 in the WF account now, and a $1887.78 rent check hitting it imminently.

I take comfort in that the Con Ed bill is paid, at least for the month (w/ installment), through the Aetna flex card.

Stopped in to see Grimm at 11 and 5:30 yesterday. Effectively I get paid $120 to ride the subways for two hours once a week. Pays me better than CC, that’s for sure.

Went to Whole Foods after the earlier Grimm visit yesterday. Ground bison, boneless chicken thighs, heirloom tomatoes, 3 ears corn, instant coffee, two bricks cheap cheese, crackers. In the evening I got 1/2 pt Platinum at the Chinawoman’s, mixed it with the remaining grapefruit juice, and slugged it all down within a half hour. Developed a sharp headache in the middle of the night. From the cheese, I assume, not that bit of vodka.

Marshal 1 position.

On Saturday the 13th, the Squirrel Stampede on Gov Is. Setting up and taking down Finish, marshaling from after 8am till almost 11. We were being treated to tacos at Taco Vista afterwards but the tacos never arrived, I got impatient, and headed for the boat due to leave in a few minutes. Was also annoyed that John L was eagerly priming Alexia for her possible interest in working as a timer. Now, I was sitting right there, I’d done timing things, at least at a base level, and here is John talking about how badly they need more timers. WTF? I gave him a hard look but our eyes never met. (Alexia kept asking me for my website address, and wants to see the cartoons I was blabbing about last years as we trudged through Crown Heights handing out advisory flyers for the Brooklyn Half.)

Actually, I’m mildly pissed off about my treatment by nruns over this calendar year. I’m used as a pair of hands at start/finish, and sometimes to marshal. That’s about it. Once I drove the blue van, a few times I set up split mats. A couple times I rode in fans. That’s it. Also once I and someone else were supposed to set up finish mats but we were slow or behind (Finish manager kept changing our position) so we were just starting to wire when Bryan G jumped in to finish it quickly. I must say I do not look forward to more painful, near-frostbitten winter races.

Sunday I got a sudden craving for Popeye’s fried chicken after seeing a nigger commercial on TV. I pulled myself together, bought fried chicken on 8th Avenue and then 9%+ABV IPA at the drugstore. Luncheon of champions.

News has been filled with the Charlie Kirk killing. Pointless but inevitable. The Mossad got him, or something like that. And why not?

Seventy-two. I like the sound of it. Really getting up there. It’s not quite three in the morning. Tonight I ate a can of tunafish, and just now, two packages (4 total) of those fig bars I got at WF a couple of weeks back.

What America Means to Me, First of a Series (mashup of Marion Power Shovel pictures, TH Benton and Hogarth)

I know what I’ll do tomorrow. Run in the park. Jog. Jog/walk as much as ten miles. It will wear me out but break the no-run spell. It’s been ten fucking years. Though up to about 2018 I made attempts but found myself fagged at a quarter mile. You know why? Because I had a whole elaborate warmup procedure. At my age I need a half-hour warm up. That’s a walk, slow-shuffle, stretch, jog, stretch. Very very easy jog then for me.

Meant to hit First Friday Mass at St P’s. Didn’t. Got involved in something mighty important on FB. Maybe the AI comic illustrations. Looked at the time and it was 5:30.

There are still dishes in the sink. But I did put the trash out, mostly. Headache and lying on bed most of the day (Friday). Why you think? I drank a pint last night, first time in some days. I also, incredibly, went back to the boo pipe, scraped it, and also found a few minuscule crystals at the bottom of the St. Sebastian’s box. I got a few half-decent hits. Two nights ago. Up most of the next day. Finally polished off the Buckley bio review and sent it in last night (Thurs) around 9. About 5000 words. Ungainly. As a hook I lead with the USPS ‘Forever’ stamps coming out on Tuesday, with an unrecognizable Bill.

Wednesday I was supposed to set up and marshal a special “Wunna Gunna” 5k in PP, but I was very ill. Fever of 102º-103º in the middle of the night. Dreadful. My fault. I went and got a flu vax at CVS on Tuesday. That did it for me. I did it for Anchor, but no Anchor work for me now, not this week, and I’ll miss the money and the pay for the race. So I’m out like $400 that I won’t get.

New St. Jude novena objective is now just, get a fucking job. You have a couple of shitty part-time jobs.

Paul Wood in Romania just wished me HBD on FB. Today (Fri) he told a story of how his granddad worked at the War office for a Mr Burgess. One day Mr Burgess didn’t show up and it turned out he’d fled to Moscow. Utter nonsense, of course, except that granddad may well have known someone at War who knew Burgess at the FO. I hypothesized that when Burgess disappeared he went to Washington. The London-Moscow hop happened nearly a year later.

Have not paid rent or electricity, but I can manage to do that now. Next few days. I should have anywhere from $350 to $500 hitting me by next Friday. And I’ll be applying for grownup jobs. Anything to bring in $2000 or more net every four weeks. That’ll do it. And bothering Social Security again, dire need. Call them Monday, Tuesday.

Started to watch Citizen Kane the other day. It’s not really that good. I had it for 48 hours. Is it still available? (Fumbles with remote.)  Oh it’s still up. Orson Welles looking across the breakfast table at Ruth Warwick. So I have another few hours on this. Now Jedediah (Joseph Cotten) in the old folks’ solarium is talking to the reporter. Flashback to first meeting with Susie Alexander.

Anchor, it appeared, demanded a flu vaccine by Sept 1, so on Sept 2 I got myself one at the CVS on 57th St. In the evening I had a beer, fell lightly to sleep (having slept much of the past two days, and having a long PP shift in front of me, midweek (Wednesday). By midnight or so I felt definitely ill. Thermometer told me 101.7º, and a little later near 103º. I checked the time every hour or so. If I felt okay come 10 or 11 am, I would shower and get ready for the PP 5K race shift starting at one pm. I didn’t go, in the end.

After 9 in the evening now, and I feel completely washed out by that fever. It broke into sweats during the morning and I have felt seriously fatigued since. First time I have ever had to “call out” at nruns.

Yesterday and today watched To Catch a Thief in bits. I could never get through it before, but forced myself. So it remains one of my least favorite Hitchcocks, a nice travelogue with little tension. The culprit is the little French gamine. Jessie Royce Landis plays so excellently against Cary Grant, she got cast as his mother in the next one, though they were about the same age. There is a lot of one-armed rescuing toward the end, also to be repeated in that next feature. Grace Kelly is beautiful and insipid. The plot is extremely sketchy. Cary is an ex-jewel thief, suspected of being the robber in a new set of heists. Grace seduces him, perhaps.

Walked to Mass at St P’s today, didn’t really go. Said part of a rosary in the Lady Chapel. Sermon going. Left. Got 3 tacos at Chipotle, the new smudge didn’t know what that was.

Bugs all over, mainly fruitflies. They had leveled off a lot before Laura was here two weeks ago, because I’d sprayed and bombed the place. Went to DR and bought another can of RAID flying insect spray, sprayed around. Also got some root touch-up. I last colored on about July 30, am due for touch up now.

Got some boo from Grimm when I was over there on Monday evening. A teensy bag lasted me two night and kept me up. Then another night or two scraping. Madly writing about everything and nothing. Buckley review which is not done. Emails to Diana Gise. She wants the whole history of 25 Church Street in Saratoga Springs. I believe “we” owned it from 1870 to 1938, when the Morrisons sold it. Since Maggie Hayes had ownership in 1924 when Thomas passed, she must have sold it to Dennis’s widow and daughter and her husband.

Not much Anchor work coming up. I requested a few slots this past week, got nothing. I do have Grimm tomorrow (Labor Day) and I have a race in PP on Wednesday afternoon and evening. Try to get some shifts for Tuesday, Thurs, Fri. Must pay rent. Can barely do it at the moment. And send in the Buckley review tomorrow.

Recurring tooth pain which I’ve staved off with the last of the Erythro and with rinses of peroxide. After eating steak a week or so ago the upper right molar was wobblier than ever.

My birthday this week. Saturday. I will make K take me to dinner if I am free in the evening.

No vodka at all this week except for a pint of Platinum last night, mixed with grapefruit juice. I had a Resin beer a couple of days earlier, from Whole Foods, which I did not pay for. The wonders of self-checkout. Of course it was also the cheapest thing I bought.

Cattrall and her greasy black mop (James Wolcott?)

Watching a bit of the film Tribute, which was always playing back in 81 or 82 when I was flying back and forth to California. Kim Cattrall gives the game away when she knows how to open the hidden bar. Who was the movie critic who denounced her greasy mop, in, was it Village Voice? The Wolcott guy from Baltimore?

You can see it at archive dot org or on YouTube but it’s really fuzzy and faded both places. Not celebrated as a classic.