I am finding that I am tougher thanI used to be. Things passing me by these days would have brought me to tears years ago. Thesse days not so much. I am not usually afraid to show emotion amongst proper, trusted company. Though it depends on the type of emotion. Anger almost never surfaces. It is like a foreign language to me. By anger I mean screaming at another human being (as opposed to a computer or piano) over a disagreement, or a perceived slight. I can raise my voice but there is a difference between being strident and being angry. But I am tougher now than I used to be. This is certain.

I was sitting at a bar the other night, reading Playboy Magazine. They don’t have naked women in that magazine any more. Otherwise I don’t think it would be on my family-friendly magazine app. An interview with Michael Hayden was hilarious. I take it they are trying to be more like GQ now. When I heard that they had dropped the nude pics from Playboy I thought “What decade is this?” How did they not make that decision years and years ago? I am surprised Sports Illustrate still does that horrible Swimsuit Edition.

At the ghetto coffee shop where some people are absolutely screaming at each other.

…

It is the next day. back at the ghetto coffee shop. Funny thing, which is not so funny: I got into a staredown with another member of the plague of asshole delivery guys who ride their e-bikes and motorcycles wherever the fuck they please. I did not realize until he tore off (going the wrong way up a one-way street) that it was one of the guys who works here and who I see almost every day. Maybe I’ll boycot this palce now.

I have been having exceedingly productive days of late. There is a spring in my step. The documentary film person from Tuesday texted today to ask if she could list me as her “Advisor” on this project. She is filling out a grant application and needs all the corroborating support she can get, I guess. I said sure, just don’t call me “payphonista”. I used that word as a joke with Ugo and he has run with it ever since. I also suggestd that if she wants to capture the rugged, monochrome sound of the landline phone call then I am happy to take the call if she wants to record the conversation, or whatever. She responded positively but it would be a ways off before we actually do anything. Now that I think of it the film could be called “Three Minutes” as it would revolve around her or others making local calls from payphones, which allow 3 minutes of call time for a quarter.

Wow, this coffee is horrible today.