pinions of buddy don:
countin blessins
sumtimes the wurst luck kin turn out to be the best, only tiz hard to tell at the time. i lack to member that whenever im goin thru a ruff patch in life. ye gut to member that thangs aint never as good or as bad as they seem.
mayhap the bes eggzample of this in my life cums frum that famus day, 9/11. the lil cumpny i wurked in wuz goin thru sum tuff times. we wuz a lil dot.com place. we placed consultunts on wall street or did trainin n such. durin the 90s, this lil cumpny wuz growin grate guns till they gut em sum space down in the finanshul districk bout two blocks east of them trade towers. they had em plenty of room on a counta they figgerd they wood conduck trainin fer incumin wall street analsts, witch seemed lack at the time thay wuz a slew of money to be made in that trade.
thangs gut to turnin whenever the bubble burst, witch i wuz watchin fer the bubble but never seen it once even tho i wuz down on wall street ever day. but burst it did, n the bizness turnt. them wall street firms figgerd thay wuznt no reason to pay to use the cumpnys site since they could squeeze into thar own. so thangs went south n the money quit porin in till the rent on that place gut to be a huge burden fer the lil cumpny. fack is, thangs had turned to whar the cumpny figgerd twood half to give up the space.
twuz a sad thang to deecide. i wuz down thar everday n twuz a grate job. mayhap my commute wuz the bes part. i wood walk downtown n our lil town here in new jersy n take the ferry, witch thay wuz one that went rite to the world finanshul center. i wood generly have my cd player on n could stand out on the frunt deck of the ferry, kindly ridin the waves.
twuz a site to see, the green water of the hudson estuary filled with ferry boats n oil tankers n barges n tug boats n such. n how the air wuz full of thangs, jets in the distunts n helicopters in the foreground with reglar commuter planes tracin up the hudson. sumtimes ye wood git ye a jet liner cummin rite up the middle of the hudson on the way to la guardia airport n dont seem lack tiz all that hi up thar.
n corse, durin the hole ride yer gittin closer n closer to that famus skyline, southwesturn facade of wall street, a gentle progresshun of bildins, each one a lil taller than the las, one of em lookin lack a pyramid, a beeyootiful rise endin in them two massive towers. twood be eggcitin ridin that ferry with bill monroe pickin away while takin in the view n the ocean smell of the mornin n jes ridin the wave up n down, witch they wood git that ferry to jumpin in the wakes of them other boats n sumtimes ye wood even git splashed.
then whenever ye gut out, ye had to walk rite thru them bildins, frum the world finanshul center to them towers n then thru em. i dun it ever day.
we also had us a fella placed at a grate firm rite down in thar but he wuz young n reckless n no matter how ye tride to larn him to ropes of makin yerself indeespensibull n not leap froggin yer boss n not gittin involved with no woman thar period, he wood do stoopid thangs till they figgerd the dint need him no more. his wurkin hours had been frum 10 am till 8 or 9 or 10 or whenever. so he wood git thar ever day round 9 am n eat his brakefuss down in that mall they had underneath of them towers. but that wall street firm let him go whenever his contrack wuz up n his las day wuz august 31. twuz thonly placement we ever lost thataway.
but lack i writ, our luck turnt n bizness fell till we had to give up our space. it seemed such a setback at the time. but twuz a blessin on a counta we had to move out on the las day of august.
on a counta that, that fella we had placed wuznt down in that thar mall whenever that furst plane hit. on a counta that, i wuznt walkin thru them towers whenever that furst plane hit. mayhap i wooda got out ok. i lack to thank so. but twooda made that awful day a thousand times wurser fer everbidy i know on a counta that wuznt no way to git wurd out whuther ye wuz ok or not.
durin this lil patch of trubles with these migraine hedaches, i keep memberin that. yesterdy wuz a good day. i noticed long bout 5:30 in the afternoon that i had been so caught up in the flow of wurk to whar i dint even know whut time twuz. i had my usual energy n speed. i wuznt hurtin no whar.
when ye thank bout it, twuz a state i had been in ten thousand times befor, only i hadnt never noticed how good it felt till that last patch of migraines. so im countin my blessins, happy that i aint a'hurtin nun this mornin.
mayhap this evenin me n miz bd'll pick us out a secunt brand of sangle malt scotch whiskey. the talisker we tride las week wuz a dee-lite, witch tiz lack life on a counta ye gut to enjoy it while ye kin.
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