And the monkey puppet. Can’t forget the esteemed monkey puppet, even if it spent much of the last ten years in a Ziploc bag. This accounts for its magically pristine condition. I see The Wild Thing on one side and the Monkey puppet on the other, the latter propped up on a spindle of some sort. Do I have a magic spindle? I mean, every piece in the niche should have some significance, seen or unseen, especially if the wood box and the known-only-to-me objects it contains is to form the central theme of the space.
Laughing later at how I said I had made that box “with my own hands.” I’ve always known that to be a pretentious flourish, but I say it anyway. With what else would I have made the box? My butt? My face?
There is a cashier at one of the supermarkets who I kind of have a thing for, except for the fact that she might not be legal age. It’s hard to tell. She carries herself and speaks like she is in her 20s but she has a splash of acne that makes her look like she is 16.
The other day she said that the fake pen which is intended to be used for signatures on the credit card device was not working. She suggested I use my tongue. Oh. Boy. With that I took my distant stalking to a slightly more elevated level by looking for her name on the receipt. Sometimes (and I think this is a bad practice) they put the cashier’s full name on the receipts. Alas, not in this case, but that is fine. Nothing for me to see there, anyway.
I slept until 2 again, after rising at a reasonable hour yesterday. How can I do this, lurch back and forth between sleeping a normal duration and then driving the train for 11 hours? I am at the library, where the noise-canceling headphones are quite the godsend, since a woman nearby sounds like a grabage truck by chewing with her mouth opened.
Last night featured as much online interaction with other humans as I have had in a long time. Amazon Cloud has a “Memories” feature, similar to Facebook, which raises a photo “from this day” x number of years ago. The one that came up must have been from 1998, or 1999. It was 4 people I knew at Time Inc., at a place in New Orleans called Crescent City Cafe. I remember almost nothing of that trip except that it happened and I have dozens of photos from there. I don’t even remember why we were there. Some publishing conference, I assume.
I sent the photo to 3 of the 4 people seen therein (I don’t know the 4th person anymore) and we had a surprisingly candid and good-natured conversation. There was even a bit of nostalgia expressed by the one person in that group from whom I would have least expected it. It was as if we all picked up right where we left off. He is the only one of us is still with Time-Warner. In fact he may be the only person I still know at that company. He is in NYC, another is up in Westchester, and the other is in Kentucky, farming cows.
While this was happening I got 3 tweets in a row from someone with whom I had a long twitter conversation the day before. We are both interested to know if NewTel Payphones has shuttered its business. He is in the Scranton area, where he has noticed lately that all the NewTel phones he can find are suddenly not working. NewTel had several working payphones in Atlantic City and Philadelphia when I visited those places a couple of years ago. But as far as I know they have no presence in NYC, even though their business address is in the Bronx. Like a lot of independent payphone service providers New Tel (if it was ever here to begin with) would have got kicked out New York to make way for the CityBridge monopoly.
And then someone I have interacted with quite rarely on FB chimed in on something, leading me to ask (quasi-rhetorically) if she ever felt like she was running out of time, even if she might be healthy and have no reason to think such things. She did not answer, though in the question I might have given her a bit of homework by asking if she knew the Joe Frank “Black Hole” show I’ve been listening to again. That show deeply troubles to me. It’s like he is talking directly to me.
Then someone bought the “Rolls Royce of payphones” on eBay after I linked to it from Facebook and elsewhere. That’s pretty cool. I hope the thing works.
Well, I do not really have anything new to say. I feel overslept and underfed, as is common. A mini cash windfall yesterday was a welcome event, but nothing to splurge over.
Listening to Sacred Harp music and looking out the window onto 21st Street. Cars passing by. Kids running past. I was going to listen to Joe Frank and type running commentary but I do not feel like it. I need to lay off the JF for a while. I hear him sneering sometimes. I wonder at times if he is not a real son of a bitch.
I need sunlight.
