I scanned away a drawer full of ephemera and detritus that I bought off eBay years ago. Some of it was discardable, other of it more interesting than I expected. A blank Western Union Telegram sheet. Some pharmacy receipts from pre-1900. I am about to spend $100 on a new photo gallery software for my web site. I have not spent $100 on anything, save for certain monthly expenses, for a long time. I hope to make back my money on this investment, not immediately but as a relatively long-term goal to keep me motivated and interested in my own damn life. Thinking of selling prints again, or at least outsourcing that task. But with the scanned receipts I’m thinking there might be a millennial fad waiting in t-shirts with postmarks from 1901, or coffee cups printed with bank receipts’ rubber stamped boilerplate info on the back. I am sure that’s been done, done, and done (what hasn’t?) but if so then that just validates the concept.

I was getting ready to just throw this whole giant envelope of receipts and hand-written notes into the rubbish, but I needed to give myself something busy to do while the booze hiatus pesters my nervous system. That explains a lot about my obsessive scanning, doesn’t it? hah. Actually, it does not. I love scanning. There is something almost sensuous about it. And if it occasionally provokes outbursts of aggravation and petulance then isn’t it better to direct that energy at a fucking scanner and not at a human being?

At the ghetto coffee shop, oveahearing two teenagers talk about how they really, really, really love baseball. Man outside pushing a granny cart, which seems to get stuck on every single crack in the sidewalk. Story of my life. Bad wheels, man.

…

Later, at the old regular, sipping free seltzers. Quiet here. Cold, too. Finished scanning that drawer full of crap, going to try and make something of it. Just came out to be among people but no one is here and the bartender is distraught over the Internet not working. not looking forward to a night of little sleep, though I wonder sometimes if I get better sleep than I think. This mind can rattle and ramble with the thickest herds of tumbleweed. Going to try sleep tonight without the benzos.

Was reading about the latest/greatest digital piano. One reviewer says it is a Casio, of all brands. But Casio, that company that basically made toy digital pianos for as long as I’ve known them, has worked with Bechstein, the venerable German piano maker, to make a hybrid grand that the aforementioned reviewer claims is better than many traditional grands. And at a mere $6500 it’s actually within reach to employed individuals. No way for me, but I’m sure some middle class dilletantes will snap those up as glamorous pieces of furniture.

Just seeing if embedded images will work with this new editor. Here’s an exciting screen grab from a beautiful game marred by obnoxious interstitial advertisements.

And something else from a jigsaw puzzles app. If this works, that is.

Fairly long chat last night with a friend I’ve known mostly online since mid 1990s. We’ve met in person a few times in NYC, and I went to a Sacred Harp singing with her in Atlanta way the hell back when. It was cool. I still have the book, which has a portentous nickname that I can’t think of now. Maybe it’s just “The Book”.

Haha, just corrected a typo: &Sacred Hard&. I was thinking of tha tbecause years ago I posted to a LISTSERV intending to ask if anyone knew where Sacred Harp singings could be found in the 5 boroughs. Unfortunately I typed Sacred Hard and there was much amusement in which to be indulged. I don’t know how that typo happened, really, since the D is nowhere near the P on the qwerty keyboard. It was a Sleudian Frip.

This woman has always maintained that my web site changed her life by getting her interested in metadata and information architecture.

Haha, another typo narrowly averted: I nearly said my web site “hanged her life.”

She’s among a handful who noticed I reactivated FB last week. This time I reactivated intentionally. I have no idea how I got rejoined last time. It might be on account of playing AlphaBetty or some other long-avoided game but I don’t freakin’ know.

Feeling antsy and want out of this cold, empty bar. Good seltzer, though!