Rain.

Perfect weather forecast. Finally there is rain, the temperature will drop, fall will bring its depressing seasonal adjustment to my psyche, and most importantly I will have more reason to stay indoors and do the real work that has stopped and started and stuttered and sputtered, with occasionally credible glimmers of accomplishment. All good, too. Things are shaping up.

But wait. I found a 7-day MetroCard with a few days left on it. Should I not get out and about and milk that sucker for every bus and subway ride I can scam from that card’s remaining 72 hours?

Whosoever can say certainly is not I.

Today at Grand Central Terminal I had the new-to-me experience of having my bag randomly inspected by NYPD officers. They looked like they were 15 years old, and our mutual expressions of chagrin seemed to indicate that the futility of this maneuver was not lost on any of us.

Note to self, though: If I ever wanna do anything stupid then be sure to leave the bag at home.

Funny thing is that after I opened my bag for this gentleman I entered the subway station and did something that might have appeared suspicious, but which went wholly unnoticed by law enforcement. I put 2 quarters into a payphone, called my voicemail number, and let the handset sit there atop the payphone. I left the phone there, conspicuous to me but evidently to no one else, as I’ve done this countless times and no one has ever taken the slightest notice.

Not an especially clear recording today of a solo guitarist, but listenable enough in that analog/landline/monochrome payphone kinda way.

Today bus and subway rides were the first I’ve experienced in maybe 3 weeks. I had enough coin for a bus ride and free subway transfer back, but should have taken the chance and used the MetroCard that I found on the sidewalk. There are no card reader things at bus stops to tell you how much value a card has on it, so I’d have had to go all the way up to the Queensboro Plaza subway station. Somehow I let myself assume that I should see what value was on the card before using it. Stupid. Boo hoo.

Thinking about my future, my past, and the precipice on which I stand. Maybe it is time to do what I do best, which is be different.

Listening to today’s subway ride, and a brief follow-up walk around the neighborhood as a police helicopter hovered overhead. Listening back to stuff like this makes me want to do more and more and more. There should be a definition for EROTIC that does not include sexual reference. To me sounds like this possess a kind of eroticism for how they invite you to think about what is happening beneath the thin film of sound.