Sitting on a park bench. I can barely see the words I am typing, on account of the sunlight and glare. I was exiled from the library on account of overpopulation.
“Sitting on a parkbench” was a line my sister used to gross me out, because I knew what came next: “SNOT RUNNING DOWN HIS NOSE.” It’s a Jethro Tull song, Aqualung. I found that line to be repulsive, as were (and are) all things snot-related. All she had to say was “Sitting on a park bench” and I would cover my ears and make noise to drown out the sound of her next words, which most of the time she never actually uttered. She didn’t have to.
It is too cold to sit here long. I intend to inspect the hard drives momentarily. Tide is low, so they should gleam.
As a friend suggested last night, it may be that whoever bought my framed prints did so for the frames themselves, which unlike the photos they contain are actually pretty handsome. I don’t care.
I sent a testy message to the Astoria Post. Earlier this week I sent a link to my story about the LinkNYC monsters coming to Astoria. They turned around and wrote a story about it, without even a grunt of acknowledgement to me. I didn’t expect them to link to me necessarily but a simple “THX!” would have been appropriate. Instead just nothing. And the story was not entirely fact-filled. The comments were in line with my feelings, though. That these Link devices attract loiterers and are almost completely unnecessary. Happy to see I am not the only lowly citizen who feels this way.
…
I was wrong to think they would gleam. I remembered when I assayed the area that I think all 4 of the hard drives landed with the darker side facing up, and that at least 2 of them landed in between rocks, making them difficult to spot. In fact I only saw one. For as certain as I was that I would remember exactly where they were I conclude otherwise, that I might never see more than the one I found today.
I can’t imagine that anyone spotted the hard drives and collected them. I mean I can imagine that but it’s almost impossibly unlikely. The risk, if there is any, is that someone would restore the drives to use and mine my data, and I have no idea what is one those drives. I think those drives go back to the Vista and Windows XP days.
At the ghetto coffee shop, 5:15 but feeling like the day is just starting. Times flies when you sleep ‘til 2. Days wrenched asunder of late, not that I was on any kind of 9-5 routine.
