the new voting machines got their first real test today. there was a primary earlier this year, in which the new machines and the new system failed miserably,but the turnout for that primary was sparse. it seems they worked out a lot of problems, though i was not allowed to vote in the earlier primary so i can‘t compare experiences. new hyork has closed primaries, so only democrats and republicans vote in primaries. i am Independent, not that you need to know.

the SRA-like system was just OK. cant complain except that the typeface on the ballot was almost impossible for me to read. teeny-tiny print on a sheet of paper cluttered with way too much information. i mean, were the party logos really necessary? and if i wanted to do a write-in vote the space available for that flourish seemed far too teeny-tiny.

alas, unlike the last time i voted, my emotions were not on overdrive with ambivalence. and contrary to other national races, New York‘s voting results are once again virtually a foregone conclusion, contributing little impact on the national landscape.

i have a rip-roaring headache this day. i‘m been psrawling in my sleep, waking up splayed in random positions that seem impossible to have reached from the starting point where i lay me down to sleep.

i had a conversation with a friend about nightmares, and the one i had earlier htis year which nearly broke my ass as i went hurtling across the room swiming my fists at a phantom intruder. he said he had one nightmare once from which he woke up throwing punches, and he slammed his fist into his wife‘s stomach, landing in such a spot that it caused no harm or even a bruise but it was alarming nonetheless esp since he had no memory of what he was dreaming about, and esp since she felt she had just been whalloped by a person with no control over his actions.

i should record video of myself sleeping, not for eerie morosity but just to have some sense of understanding that portion of my life. how do i move? what sounds do i make? the body asleep is almost an alien. with the mind depressed and suppressed into mental indentations of slovenly discursion the body has no authority.

ass seems to be typical of voting day i wandered around the neighborhood after casting my ballot. i did htis last year, and happened to spot an old school phone booth with a rotary dial payphone outside a bar ear the voting place. i saw it and thought wtf, why would that bar set up a phone booth as a gimmick? alas, it was set up as a prop for the tv show Lost, which was filming in the area, and which was using the bar as a “location“. still, it was pretty cool to see an old style booth and rotary dial payphone out on the street.

today i landed at a thrift shop, where i spent $20 on a Kodak Instamatic film camera. the owner of the place threw in a few flash bulbs for free,because wat else was he going to do with them? $20 is probably way too much coin for that camera but it was fun and i got to feel like i was helping the place survive.

then i checked in to the pub 2 doors down, as all attentions were drawn to a car being towed by an NYPD traffic police tow truck. it turned out the vehicle owner owed thousands of dollars in parking tickets, and so they took his car on account of that, the car likely being worth less than the amount owed on parking tickets.

there were 2 drunks and an anorexic bartender at the bar. i have seen all of them there before, the old guys whiling away their lives sitting at the bar, earning the trust of the bartender so that they can handle the remote control for the television, for one of the televisions. today the old guy complained about how they used to make remotes, saying that there used to be a “Start Over“ button but “they got rid of that.“ He clicked away at other buttons.

i looked at my $20 Instamatic, reasonably certain the thing will not work when I battery-fy it. the plastic disposable flash bulbs were something to think about, though, something to hold in my right hand and handle like the jinglejangle of my testicles.

i heard a funny joke yesterday (speaking of holding my testicles in my hand). little kid Johnny asks his mother “Mommy, how old am I?“ she answers ‘well, oyu are 5, of course.“ Johnny goes to his dad and asks “Daddy, how old am I?“ dad responds, “Well, son, you are 5 years old.“ Johnny goes into his Uncle‘s room and asks “Uncle Jim, how old am I?“ Uncle Jim says “Well, let me feel your testicles.‘ Johnny drops his pants and Uncle Jim feels the boy‘s balls, takes his cock in his hand, feels the kid‘s stuff, then says “You feel like you‘re 5!“ Johnny asks “How‘d you know I was 5?“ Uncle Jim says “Oh, I overheard your mom and dad say how old you were.“

harhar, perversionary humor.