Diary entry: Greetings everybody, now Paulie has been called a lot of things over the years but he has never been called stupid, that statement really isn’t true, I just wanted to see how it sounded in print, let me tell you about the first girl Paulie ever dated, she was a beautiful soul, she always asked me for help undoing the clasp that was behind her back, yeah, she wore a straight jacket, she could’ve been a free spirit but the institution kept holding her back… Diary entry: Hey, Paulie here, back at Panda Express, early evening, before the rush, a tall pretty dark haired Oriental waitress was explaining to Paulie that the “snake dance” wasn’t at all what Paulie had thought it was, the deadly mamba did not dance in the traditional way, hang on, my dog Smudge is lapping beer up off the floor, “Git!”, “Go on git!”, he gets really gassy when he drinks beer, plus it makes him pee, well, this is a somewhat truncated “Diary” entry so please allow Paulie to apologize for being short with you, we had a fight break out last night in the break room here at Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary, and we have a huge mess to clean up, the conversation had turned to politics, and a melee ensued between “communist Democrats” who are bent on destroying a presidency occupied by a new age messiah, and “fascist Republicans” who only want to build a wall around free thought and freedom, people were throwing donuts at everybody, the break room ran red with jelly, all our holiday table centerpieces ended up on the roof, and some one pee’d in the coffee pot again, well, this is Paulie, headed down to Personnel to pick up more discharge forms, then to the break room to see how the cleanup is going, then to the office for the usual five o’clock smoke and martini, this is Paulie telling the world his secret holiday wish, “Can’t we please trash religion and politics ’til after New Years?”, this is Paulie, out, shalom…

Diary entry: Hey everybody, it truly is a great day to be alive out here in Paulie world, the beer is cold, the beans are hot, and Paulie is just right, the snowy wonderland seems to glitter like a jeweler’s display window even though we don’t see the sun much any more, the days are short but the stories are long, and they continue clear into the wee hours, everyone here has something to say and they all say it, sometimes you can’t tell the difference between the beer wind and the bean wind, but no matter, as long as the breeze blows, we shall regale or be regaled, as the gales of laughter attest to, people here seem to be putting their serious differences aside in favor of jokes, like in the old days when we laughed at that wide no man’s land that stood between differing opinions and ideals, when strong men with funny tales to tell breached the schism with that defiant look in their eyes that told you a belly full of humor would soon be had, yeah, we invite all to join us as we feast hearty, we have those cute little tables with the checkered cloths on them, set up in the midst of that wide gulf that wants to keep us apart, please come together out here in Paulie world, it’s a new day, a Utopian day, it’s open house here at our little Utopian Paradise Hotel, check in with us for a short stay, we value your time, make your time our time and we will make our laughs your laughs, we hope to see you soon, shalom…

Diary entry: This is Paulie, your quiz master with a short quiz for you, first question, “Who are you”, second, “What are you”, and third, “How long are you gonna be that before you finally change into something you might actually one day be proud of”, please don’t send your answers in to us here at the “Diary”, Paulie can only ask questions, he cannot answer them, the strong wind may blow your house down but it has no answer for why it did such a thing, don’t ask the large wide buzzard why he prefers eating soupy carrion by the roadside, don’t ask the house cat why he prefers sleeping in your soft bed, and don’t ask Paulie why he asks hard questions and has no answers for them, well, this is Paulie, continually questioning everything like he was meant to do from the beginning, ending this short note with love wishes to all the family who question also, Paulie says good wishes, good things, love, and shalom to the ones he loves, and once more saying to the rest of you, Paulie’s really getting tired of repeating it, but he will say it one more time, go to hell…

Diary entry: Hey everybody, Paulie here with holiday greetings to you all, Paulie has put out his usual treat for Santa beside the blazing fireplace, the bright orange-red logs illuminate an almost empty bottle of schnapps, a candy cane that the dog had been licking on, and a plate of Christmas tree cookies that turned out tasting worse than the Christmas tree water in your tree stand after New Years Day, and plenty of carrots and potatoes for Rudolph, Santa’s favorite reindeer; I don’t know who it was, Santa or one of his animals, but some one crapped in my fireplace last year and Paulie will be waiting up all night this Christmas eve to make sure it doesn’t happen again, if Paulie catches anyone crapping in his fireplace this year, he will be hung outside the window of the stone tower like last year’s wilted mistletoe that the rats will kiss under before they chew his carcass down to the bone, anyway, Paulie may not have his Christmas cookie baking down right , but there is one thing Paulie does have right, and that is his love for you, so please allow Paulie to duck this next tree branch as old Plowie clops through the woods, pulling my sleigh through the snowy wonderland we all refer to as Paulie Land, this is Paulie shouting out a very merry good evening and a happy new day for you all, shalom…

Diary entry: Good evening, Paulie here, it has been a day filled with quiet contemplation, a mostly silent day except for those muffled, distant whispers that come out of the dark forest of your mind, anyway, where was I, oh yeah, Paulie has become mired down in a dilemma, does he continue to try to whip sense into his fellow Americans, or does he get back up on his horse and leave them all to die in the desert, does Paulie continue to use his smart whip that is strung with beautiful shiny pearls to whip muddy beasts of the earth who cannot discern between a corn cob and an apple, Paulie fears his perfect whip of pearls only falls on deaf ears, well, it’s past nine o’clock, which is far past Paulie’s martini time, so as Paulie stirs his first martini of the evening, please allow Paulie to stir your ears one more time, “Wake up you fucking retard”, shalom family…

Diary entry: Yeah, people just don’t get it, they don’t understand Paulie’s words, they can’t see what Paulie is trying to show them and Paulie thinks he knows why, peoples’ eyes and ears are as misplaced as their thoughts and feelings, they cannot see or hear Paulie because most of their sense organs are in their butts, it’s always been about location, location, location, ask any realtor, they will tell you that no one wants the dank moldy house that is way up the dark muddy alley beyond the place where the word sanity has never been uttered, well, this is Paulie, your realtor, asking you politely, sell your old broken down ideas and ideals and move to a better neighborhood, come out here to the Avenue, we have plenty of room for you to grow, the air is clearer here and our words are a breath of the freshest air you’ve ever inhaled; now that your nose is back where it was meant to be, on the outside of your head, we invite you to partake, this is realtor Paulie saying shalom, oh hang on a second, Paulie the fashion maven has a clothing update for you, we are no longer wearing polka dot trousers, they went out of style years ago, please check your wardrobe and toss out all your baggy trousers that have the one brown polka dot on the rear, it’s a brand new fashion day, and the day’s fashion is Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary, well, this is Paulie, in his best clothes, saying to his well dressed family out there, peace, love, and shalom, to the rest of you, Paulie is really getting tired of saying it, but he will, GTH…

Diary entry: Paulie recently returned to his old stomping ground, he had been invited to be the back-up keynote speaker at a conference taking place in his old home town, Paulie was at one time a trash collector and an active member within the GMCU, the Garbage Man Collective Union, they were having a big gala blow out, out at the Can Can Bar and Grill, where we used to meet after a long hard day of emptying garbage containers, to engage in friendly beers and bits of wisdom we had picked up on our rounds that day, anyway, the evening was a smash, we broke the night like it was a box of old light bulbs that you throw into the side of the dumpster as hard as you can, to hear “pop, pop, pop”, like it was a semi-retarded New Years Day in the middle of August, anyway, it was great having a good union job in those days, working under the banner of the GMCU and being a member in good standing in the Collective, I had a whole apartment full of discounted scratch and dent appliances, the times were good, I was young and brash, the days were sweet, and the nights down at the Can Can Bar and Grill popped like pop bottles in the compacter, I never got to speak to the Collective from the stage, but the listening was enjoyable, we had many speakers who regaled us with old stories, a few worn out cliche’s, and the kind of threadbare jokes you hold close to you like they are the special blanket you had as a child, and you laugh and laugh until your face turns red and your belly hurts, I’ll never forget my recent visit to the hometown I will always love, well, this is Paulie out here near the edge of the county, saying shalom to his old work mates, shalom and love…

Diary entry: Paulie feels depleted, empty, hollow, like an empty sack containing nothing but air, a vessel inflated with nothingness, and Paulie is waiting, waiting for some kind of inevitable thing that has been lurking in the shadows, eyeing Paulie, studying Paulie, always thinking about Paulie, and how this thing is like a stinging needle, and then Paulie imagines himself as an egotistical over inflated balloon and he is waiting, waiting, for a deadly needle to come out of the hay pile and puncture Paulie just when he is in the middle of telling his funniest story ever, and Paulie ends up flying up and away in a stupid convoluted way, making those loud balloon fart noises, is this Paulie’s destiny, his fate, was this whole story conceived long ago, in some far away place, a big cosmic joke on Paulie, written down in some ancient book somewhere, if so, we are narrowing in on the last pages, stay near to the “Diary” readers, because Paulie’s biggest joke ever may be coming up soon, shalom…

Dec 13,2019 Diary entry: Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public, you have just entered into a new dimension, a wondrous world of sight and sound, a world in which you will hear words like you’ve never known, a word zone we call the Twilight Diary, join us as we take your mind on a journey, a trip if you will, where the fabric of time and space distorts into a continuing continuum of dichotomic thought that will challenge the purpose of your very being, hear words from Paulie that come from a here-to-for unknown realm where sight and sound, time and space, congeal into a mass that is so dense that logic and reasoning become moot, join our journey as we search for the key of knowledge that will open up your mind, open up your consciousness, and possibly open up your very soul, come, take hold of our hand as we lead you into the realm known as the Twilight Diary…

Diary entry: I remember my old friend Bumpy, a kid from back in the old neighborhood, he was really bumpy, he had bumps everywhere, but mostly on his head, we had heard about a phrenologist who was working out of a garage down off Eighty Second Street behind the old dump site, we thought we’d get Bumpy’s bumps read by a professional bump reader because we wanted to know what made Bumpy tick, he always seemed to be sort of a speed bump in our quest for whatever thing we were trying to do, anyway, this old lady head bump reader called herself Madam Fingers, we entered in to her studio and rang the bell on the counter, Madam Fingers appeared from behind a curtain, she held a bent cigarette tightly between two pursed lips, “You boys here for a head readin’?”, we told Madam Fingers that our friend needed his head read, ashes fell from her cigarette as she nodded and told Bumpy to take a seat at a small round table, she began to study his head and said she had never seen so many bumps in all her days as a bump reader, she told Bumpy that his head was an open book, a long and craggy novel with an up and down story line, territory that was so pocked with valleys, cliffs, and gorges, that if his head were the Northwest Territory, Lewis and Clark would have taken one look and turned back towards St. Louis, found the first saloon and said fuck it, anyway, she gave us a lot of good advice that we all took to heart and our friend Bumpy got a blurb written about him in Palm and Head Reader Monthly magazine, we all loved our good friend Bumpy and we also loved Madam Fingers for the reams of wisdom she freely gave to a group of young, raggedy boys from down the road that needed something that no one else could give, well, these many years later, Paulie would like to say “Thank you Madam Fingers”…