I cannot seem to get anything going on these days. No concentration. No ambition. Most motivated I got lately was in response to an e-mail from the producer at CBS. I don’t know when that spot will air, but of course it is far from timely subject matter. There was a gap of a few weeks after Charles Osgood retired and Jane Pauley took over. I think she started hosting the show last week. I don’t know what they aired during those in between weeks.

I feel awful today. Overslept again. I was somewhat horrified to look at my Flick page and see my bloody face. It looked a lot worse than it was. Just a teeny tiny cut through which spewed an outsize amount of blood. Blood is disgusting. I remember an encounter with a guy on 29h Street and 37th Avenue. He was drunk as hell but he was OK. Just kind of being stupid. And he was attempting to haul a headboard that he had found in someone’s trash. It was heavy as hell, and he obviously was having trouble moving it. Some alien presence took over my better judgment and I heard myself ask this bloke if he needed any help. He gladly accepted the offer. I helped him get the headboard off the street and onto the sidewalk. That was really all I intended, to get him out of the middle of the street. Somewhere in this he cut his hand on the wood. Blood everywhere, and somehow his hand came into contact with me. The feeling of some stranger’s blood on my skin was borderlin horrifying. It’s not like he wiped his feces on me or sneezed up a giant snot hocker onto me. but it was still pretty… earthy. He made the immediate point of assuring me that he had no diseases. That was actually appreciated, although I don’t think there are many diseases you can contract via this type of contact.

But I thought of that encounter as I let the blood ooze across my face the other night. Yuck.

I should have been completely tired Friday night but I was restless as hell. I had walked from here to 101st Street and West End Avenue, then back down to 66th Street. I did not map it but it must have been 12 or 13 miles. And yet I was restless and wide awake, resorting to a couple of whiskey shots at 5am. I do not like whiskey but it was the only remotely palatable liquor I had left. The taste of that whiskey stayed with me all day. Gross. I had quit drinking for about a week. After a few days I felt something akin to normal. But I took care of that with a light bender.

I would like to stop. It is not necessary for me to drink. But it is still fun. And it answers something in my brain.

…

I made a few new discoveries on the far west side. I never realized there were new streets over there. Riverside Boulevard and Freedom Place. I sat on Riverside Boulevard for a while, watching the wealthy stroll past. There is a Trump building over there. Trump Place. It felt like another world. Forget about another city. This felt like a different planet.

I rediscovered the awesome old green phone booths way over on the far west side. I thought they would be gone by now but there would appear to be no reason to gut them. I stepped inside them, as best I could. The doors are nearly stuck in place.

I treated myself to an Uber car home. I unwittingly got an Uber Pool car, meaning I shared the ride back with some rando. It was cool. We made nice conversation about the neighborhood, since we were both from here. That’s why we got automagically assigned to share the ride. Best of all, the ride was only nine bucks. I expected $20+.

Christ I feel like shit. Going to go walk and walk and walk.