I slept sprawled like a rangy, desperate amoeba last night. I was everywhere, except (as far as I can remember) upside down. That happens when I go boozeless for a while, then drink. Now The Wookie has his side of the bed, and I have mine. Considering his size (it’s only the head of a Wookie, not the whole body) he has a lot of room to himself over there. He must have been annoyed as hell to see me barging in on his territory. If he was irked he did not say anything. I talk to The Wookie but only when he talks to me first.
The reason I have no luck quitting drinking is that I don’t know anyone who wants me to stop, or who would be impressed when I say how many days I’ve gone. Only one person, really, is like that. But he moved away, and to be honest he could be a little sanctimonious about it. That does not surprise me, I’m sure I’d exhibit a whiff of the high and mighty if tables were turned. In fact I might be doing it now, in reverse, by blaming non-existant individuals for my continuing descent into winodom. I don’t know. My body wants to be healthy, and just two days sans booze reminded me what that feels like. But all in all my days are about the same in what is to me the most important indicator: mental acuity, concentration, and general inclination to do things.
Today I went out to Queens Center, via subway and free transfer by Q60 bus to what I thought was going to be Queensboro Plaza. Now I know to check the header on those buses. It stopped at Queens Boulevard and 33rd Street, to the apparent surprise of everyone on board. It’s not a chasmic difference in walking time but it did irritate.
My plan was to get binaural sounds from the mall and other areas. I don’t know how well it worked yet, or what purpose it would serve should the recordings be A+ quality. I think I caught an excellent conversation between two strangers on the bus. As a buttload of kids just out of school prepared to board one of them said to the other “HERE THEY COME!” They both laughed, and had a conversation that started with how they were young once, too, then wandered off into who knows what. They talked like best friends. It was nice.
I was reminded of a friend who said he and some others had a memorable conversation at a midtown bar. they talked about that conversation for weeks. Then, months later, one of them was watching “Will and Grace” and heard what sounded like that exact conversation in the dialogue. Someone, it seemed, had been sitting nearby either transcribing or recording their conversation, the plugging it into the script as if it was original. everyone felt had but no one did anything about it.
More to say, just not right now.
