aha, how did this take so long. i just spent $1, a precious hard-earned dollar i might add, on this new piece of text-editor software. now i can type light-colored monospace text onto a black platform, a black and blatant stage.
as i was saying in the previously-deleted textspace, i can not remember if today happened. where was it? was it wasted altogether? i found myself wandering about an underground parking lot on the upper west side, asking the very helpful and gentlemanly men working there if they had ever seen a row of green phone booths in that space. the one guy was happy to guide me around the underground space, directing me to the box containing a mass of wires and little red nubby conjoining things, but he said he had worked in that space for a long time and had never seen phone booths down there. the booths,i have it on good authority, still exist, but i am obviously misguided as to their location. bahaha, for to me approach strangers and commence speaking out loud is kind of a big deal, a success of sorts, so i should feel good about that. by the time i figured out where the booths probably were i was too tired to give a shit, and will be back in that area next week anyway, trying to impress a hottie with my attentions but cooly and casually making it sound like i just happened to be in the area, needing a burger at her place of work, oh yeah. she is the hottie at the source of some interesting bits of randomness. a couple of months ago we were talking and i saw a car parked nearby. that car, i told her, i saw a couple of years ago parked about a mile away. i took a picture of the car and posted it to my web site. 2 years ago. when i saw the car again i was inspired to go home, find that earlier picture of the car, print it onto photo paper, and leave prints of the pictures under the windshield wipers of the car today. freakish, maybe , and not a little unsettling to the owner of the vehicle, but i had a hottie to impress. os i went home, found the old picture, printed it up on my fancy new photo printer, and brought the prints back and asked her if she wanted to puta couple of them on the car. she did. it was fun. the other story of randomness is too long and too specific for my attention span at this moment.
i was waxing feux-philosophical about nostalgia, the past, and the present. someone e-mailed to request my time and labor for a documentary about “the good old days“ and i have thus far ignored the request, conforming to my mostly-honored executive decision to ignore all media inquiries from hereforth. but this isn‘t exactly a “media“ inquiry, though the potential for wasted time is no less considerable. and this matter of engaging producers and content-feeders benefits myself not in the slightest save for the potential of meeting interesting others.
the faux-philosophicableness involved the present, which i think does not exist. there is no present, only a continuum of past and future, continuously evaporating in a kiss of time the headlines and the reference books call the present. the closestthing to a “present“ i can accept comes from those reference books. so-and-so‘s dates are listed as “1968-present“ or “1968- “. the mighty dash. one has not arrived in the “present“ they have a dash after their year of birth. it is akin to being a clue/answer in a crossword puzzle, an enduring signal of arrival and cultural meaningfulness. oh yeah. alas, that is a spineless ramble, a tangent strayed into from the present, or the void which is the present. there is no present, only a continuum of time and experience collectively shared by the past and the future. that what i say to nostalgia. and to documentary producers asking for my time.
