Well, then. Yet another new keyboard. I seem to cycle through these things like they are disposable junk. This one is quite bulky compared to others. In the kitchen now, but heading out for the afternoon after an unproductive morning. It has never been in my nature to take a nap during the day but that is what I did earlier. Just for a little while.

…

Later. At Times Square again. I walked here. On the bridge I found a plastic envelope containing someone’s credit cards, ID, and 3 MetroCards. I was tempted to buy myself a sandwich with one of the cards but I did the right thing and dropped it in a blue mailbox. I actually might have kept the MetroCards as my consolation prize but I found that the total value of the three cards was 5 cents. Who even carries cards like that around?

I thought nothing of it until later but I might have passed the person who dropped this item. Someone who might have looked like the dude in the photo ID was rummaging through his pockets, as if looking for something. Did not get a good look at him and did not think of the connection until later. In hindsight it feels like I had pickpocketed the guy.

I thought about handing it to a police officer. I have never heard wisdom to suggest that this is a good idea but it seemed like it might reunite the person with his cards more quickly. But then I though nah, the police might have questions to ask of me. Bringing that element into the equation seemed like an invitation to make things complicated.

I did look through the cards for a phone number but found none. His home address was on the ID, down to the apartment number. But really all that should be expected of me is to do what I did.

I have found a few drivers licenses and credit cards. I always dump them in a mailbox.

…

Surrounded by lounging tourists. For some reason it occurred to me that these tables and chairs sitting out here are ripe for being stolen. Then I lifted one of the chairs. It was heavy as hell. Very heard to steal.

Most everything I see here is new. Exceptions include the NYPD station at 43rd Street. Then there is a sign on the side of a covered newsstand that looks like 1990s vintage, advertising “ATM DRINK CANDY ATM GEN. GOOD”. I like that “GEN. GOOD” bit. Very specific.

Even the ground looks new. Only in the distance do things start looking normal again, as Broadway curves toward Herald Square.

COFFEED has a presence here. I wonder when that happened.

I have not seen the phone booths yet today. That is not the only reason I am here these days. I just find it interesting to be surrounded by people, most of whom seem pretty happy to be here. Tourists come with their best appearances, some of them at least. And I end up in a lot of pictures, or else taking a lot of pictures of people who perhaps naively hand me their $600 phone and ask me to do that.

I think I am sitting outside what used to be the Virgin Megastore. I used to go there a fair amount. Paul H., who had been the manager at Tower Records when I worked there, became the Buyer at this Virgin store. That was the only connection I knew of, though if there were other Tower alumni there it would not be surprising.

A contingent of about 15 people from a CAMP ABU just strolled past. I assume that to be their place of origin since most of them were wearing t-shirts with that name on them.

The NASDAQ is across the street. I know someone whose company went public and who made the announcement there. His young son was present and that kid was absolutely freaking the fuck out all during the press conference, screaming and kicking shit. I’ve seen that kid get like that but apparently this episode was way over the top.

…

Hey now, this keyboard has a nice feature. One of the keys  activates screenshot. Yay.
…

I made an unfortunate slip the other night. At a bar there was a mixup with someone’s check. Bartender is supposed to give two credit card receipts, one merchant copy the other the customer copy. Bartender did this but for some fucked up reason the amount due on one of the receipts was very different from the other one. It seems the bartender accidentally picked up the credit receipt for the previous customer. Kind of a weird mistake but, since I’m friends with the bartender, I told him how it reminded me of the time a bartender at Gilbey’s tried to slip himself a $20 tip on my credit card. I only noticed it when, in an uncharacteristic move, I actually checked my credit card statement. I was not looking for anything related to Gilbey’s but I could not help notice that the last bill from there was for $35. I could not remember the last time I spent $35 (on myself only, I should add) at Gilbey’s. So I confronted the bartender about it the next time I saw him there, and he was pretty clearly guilty as charged. He wrote himself a $20 tip thinking I would not notice it on my credit card statement. He was almost correct in his assumption that I would not notice. I did not want to get his ass fired but I also did not want him to think I was a dumbass or that he should expect to get away with shit like this.

The mistake I made in telling this tale was in mentioning the bartender’s name. This bartender to whom I told the story knows the guy pretty well. All I could say was “I shouldn’t have said the guy’s name.” But this person didn’t seem to be offended. He also did not seem surprised by the story.

The positive upshot to that story was telling the bartender that ever since I’ve been careful about using credit cards with untrusted bartenders. Then I handed him my credit card to pay the bill.

Ah, I notice now the red and white globes at the subway station entrance. Those are old.

Signs everywhere reading “JAY:Z 4:44” look like Bible verse to me. Dearly beloved please open to the book of Jay Z, Chapter 4 Verse 44.

Going to walk around some.

…

At O’Brien’s Times Square Pub. Same as last night’s place. Tourists talking about their world travels, bartenders talking about their Irish heritages. The woman bartender is 25. She looks and talks like a much older person. Bartending since she was 16. The male bartender looks like Timothy McVeigh. He is from some part of Ireland he says no one has ever heard of. The older couple next to me just saw the musical “Book of Mormon” and thought it had a lot of laughs, but the man found the attacks on the Mormon people to be kind of unkind. Isn’t it standard in America to ridicule Mormons? If so maybe it should not be. I know not much about them except for their male population’s reputation as polygamists.

A friend who moved to Montana is settling in, and says he felt his first earthquake this week. I did not know earthquakes were a thing there. I remember feeling cheated when the earthquake happened here and I was in a place where I had no idea it was happening. I didn’t feel anything. Everyone else seemed to have semi-dramatic tales of dishes falling off of counters or cupboards rattling.

He says it get hot as hell by day and cold as hell by night. So he sleeps with the windows open, disturbed only by people leaving the bars late.

It is actually pretty cool that he’s doing this. I think he’s in his late 50s now and basically starting over, moving to Montana to be with a woman he met about a year ago.

I wrote to him today in response to an email he sent in 1994. I discovered an old mass of emails and IRC chat logs. Deciding not to even begin wading through all that shit I instead looked for earliest messages from people I still know from that long ago. So many chat logs and emails from Keri. I forgot how much we used to talk. Why did I cut her off, anyway? I seem to remember detecting a strain of needless anger in her. She could fucking yell, and usually for no good reason or over something that just did not matter. In Rochester I remember we were trying to find our way from the hotel to the site of the wedding. She just started barking out orders and pointing us in directions that would have gotten us completely lost.

And… she was 16 when we met, and 17 for the first year I knew her. I did not know until quite recently that 17 is legal age in New York. I thought it was 18. A girl I dated around that time also thought 18 was the legal age. She waited. I waited. Maybe the age actually was 18 back then.

Christ I just started sneezing.

This place is clearing out. I should follow suit.