It really happened. Out of nowhere and as if by plan I deposited a check from the sky, a windfall from the corporate teat on which I sucked for so long. It is not a blockbuster sum but it will serve me well for many months. I have somewhat mixed feelings about it. What if I need $269 a month in 17 years? I don’t think I will miss it. In fact I might look back at this as a transformative event in my life… but for better or for worse I do not know yet.

I celebrated the check deposit with a phone call to the .MOBI, though it might be barely audible. As if there is free money everywhere now I found a quarter on the sidewalk as I went to make that call. That was amusing. As I exited the bank a bum asked me for money. I said “No, thank you.” I almost tore the check in half. It was one of those check mailers things where you bend and tear off three of the four edges.

I further celebrated with a trip to Steinway Street and 30th Avenue, where I recorded 5 9-minute sessions of Christmas music through a payphone. I am told there is also Christmas music played in Jackson Heights, where I know of several payphones. That’s my next destination. Yes, this really is my life. There is a woman in Jackson Heights I am supposed to meet up with, and to invite her along on a payphone hunt would make for a perfect excuse to do that. She’s known of my payphone interests since forever ago. She made a famous (to me) comment: “Mark Thomas you get more media and press attention for doing absolutely nothing than anyone I’ve ever seen.” Hey, what can I say?

…

Alas, now I feel cold. My soul feels cold. I felt kind of frozen since waking up, the windfall check did nothing to thaw that. I am just floating through this waste of a life. Each day passes quicker and quicker, and I accomplish less and less. I don’t care any more. My means of making a living the past years has become a mix of tedious, monotonous, and even smarmy. I was particularly interested in some of the fake news discussion of late. A Russian kid was posting a bunch of nonsense stories about Donald Trump and slapping ads on them. He made $6000 in one month (which isn’t really that much for highly-trafficked content). He unabashedly and unashamedly admitted that his interest in writing this fake news content was to make money. But it’s not only only fake news where this happens. There are billions and billions of pages filled with garbage content, some of it well-intentioned but much of it generated solely to make money on ads. This is the smarmy ocean of shit I’ve been swimming in. For years I didn’t feel bad about it, because I considered myself one of the good guys who did not crank out garbage content or play games to trick people into clicking on ads. While I did well enough financially at it I guess I could place myself above the fray. But it’s become impossible to compete with the smarmy guys. By “impossible” I don’t mean that I cannot do it any more, I just don’t want to. Well, actually, the technology behind web sites has changed enough that I cannot really keep up any more. But there again, it’s not that I can’t but that I just don’t care enough.

As for that Russian guy, I don’t think I have a problem with him. Some have said he helped get Trump elected with his nonsense stories but he seemed to think that people should recognize satire when they see it. If satire can only be allowed from sanctioned sources like The Onion and The New Yorker then what, really, is its value?

Derf, I am going home. Have to take a dump real bad.