Sitting in the lower level Grand Central Terminal, near the downstairs information booth. Not the iconic upstairs booth. Hah, iconic. My butt is iconic.
Therapist meeting today was even-keeled. I think she is actually getting to know me. She remembers things now. Details. I don’t expect anyone to remember everything about me. I’m surprised when anyone remembers anything.
I forget so many things. I’ve been like that as long as I can, well, remember. Driving to school every day in high school I routinely had no memory of passing Chamberlain High School, the rather enormous public school on North Boulevard at Busch Boulevard (I think).
I told the shrink that I am lonely and in need of someone to talk to. She concured, adding that I need someone intellectual and not in a hurry. Well I knew that, too. I have arrived at a lot of realizations about myself that I ahd not known before, but that realization was not one of them.
Leaving here now, the smell of a non-passing stranger is making me ill.
…
Next day. Wedneday. Feeling like butt today. Went out walking and might have got too much sun. A billboard with time and temperature said it was 91 degrees. An abrupt shift.
An amusing thing just happened. Someone in my apartment building (I think I know who) left what appeared to be a bag full of DVD box sets out for trash. Gilmore Girls and some Mel Gibson movies, at a glance. I took the bag upstairs, thinking I’d hawk them on eBay. Alas, the DVD cases were all empty of the DVDs. If it’s who I think it was then she lives in a tiny studio apartment and must have just been making space by saving the DVDs and trashing the bulky boxes. I took the bag back downstairs, hohping no one (her in particular) saw me. I don’t think anyone did.
I was in her apartment once, before she lived there. Larry used to live in there. One day the front door of the apartment building was locked such that no one could exit the building. A neighbor and I could not contact the owner of the building. We resorted to knocking on Larry’s door and asking if we could climb outside through his apartment window. He agreed but only because he recognized me. He did not know who the other person was. That was memorable.
The woman who lives there now looks completely different every time I see her. Sometimes I recognize her, other times I do not. She knows this now so I am not so profusely apologetic when we make direct eye contact and I say nothing because I do not realize who she is.
Someone is badgering me to give a speech at a hacker convention in July. I don’t think I will do it. I mean, I know I won’t do it. It goes counter to my image, for as much as I care about having an image. Now I find that that person has called me 5 or 6 times at my (212) number. They must be having trouble finding speakers this year.
Speaking of the (212) number I got another call from that somewhat disturbing girl in Indiana. She sounds troubled. I have no idea who she is. I have no idea who she thinks I am.
Feeling blah. Going out for more walking, I think.
