7:57am 2/19/2022
Sitting at Hestia, Maiden Lane… or is it Liberty Street? 7:57am, February 19, 2022… Yesterday was a first time I’d posted like this, from the small keyboard into the small screen of the aging Samsung Galaxy S9+ phone, which I think has served me well for as long as 6 years. Yesterday’s long-winded account of the woman I let get away, because she looks like she has her owns worlds to collide, was notable lacking in paragraph and line breaks. My bad. In the months or even a year since doing this I forgot that one of this technique’s charms is the manual insertion of HTML tags, since line breaks are not recognized by the email parser. I had some luck last night setting up a new radio, one I’ve had in the hopper for years but only tepidly moved forward with. It seemed so daunting, all those hours of content.But pared down to essentials it is not all that intimidating.  The bother is in the editing. I make the mistake of naming names, generally a no-no when talking about past lovers and their sexual performances and predilections.Not just the sexes of past but other interpersonal dilemmas and disasters involving people I hope never to interact with again, those I will love forever even when it means I can never have them…

A lot of woe, I guess you’d call it. O, woe! But I don’t think of it as woe or regret. It is a life lived, a life loved. Life is long, and no one quality of that life should define it.

I did not drink last night. I was not at a breaking point, with shakes so bad I could barely get the pills to my face. I was not there, but I anticipated that state and nipped it in the butt.

I laid off booze for a while to see if mooonlighting in some bullshit jobs will be worth the time. Foot courier? Hey, why not? If there is decent tipping I might make money but also open little windows into the parts of New York I might never know. All walks of life but if I get into grocery delivery I expect a certain level of affluence, which would come with disrespect and condescension to the lowly delivery grunt.

it is quiet and empty in Lower Manhattan today, this Saturday.

Drinking, or rather not drinking, greatly impacts my innards. I’ll see how today progresses in that respect but I think I should experience far less heartburn and innardal discomfort at the desk today.

Sitting at the desk long hours has taken its toll. Leg is sore at end of day, body feels constipated in places constipation is not supposed to be an issue. Twitches.  Eyes also can get glazed.

But all told I think I’ve handles the job here as well as I would completely clean and sober. It’s not a hard job.

I could get punched for saying this but when I started doing photography semi-professionally I thought this was a good and proper thing for a drunk to be doing. I retract that statement now. I think I was just making excuses for myself.

Now it is 12:46pm. a MORNING ON THE GRINDSTONE.. Not going to go back and fix that all caps snafu.

Work is fun but I have no choice but to moonlight, or find some at-home way to increase income from my creative work.

I made an surprising but not surprising discovery last night with regard to the Redittors who took over my 212-255-2748. It was an amicable and OK-by-me invasion, in which the glitch in my system was always known by me to be there, I just never thought anyone would find it.

But in the crush of collecting data points on how and why the system was set up the way it was I heard discussion about me, as informed as it could be given the very limited amount of research.

What struck me — which is not to say it surprised me — was the rush to judgment over my apparent popularity. Comments about how few views my YT videos get led them to conclude I was some kind complete unknown.

It’s true, I do not go out every day and pound the pavement of self-promotion.  I admit that I maintain a certain self-aggrandizement that feels the fans should come to me, without my beckoning. The work should speak for itself.

I am only part way through it all. It’s more interesting than I expected, though I have yet to reach the part where Cecilia meets me and talks about our afternoon together. I did hear just a bit of that and turned it right the fuck off.

But I’m OK with it now, I think.

Another observation from dipping in to the conference calls was that most callers wanted to hear the audio. Interacting is not what they had in mind and most refused to do it.

I don’t have a problem with that, under the unique circumstances. I guess it’s unfortunate and annoying for those folks but they can come back anytime, or else access the audio as it was intended, via the website or mobile device.

I’m waiting for the expansive, all-sexed-up conversation with Cecilia, to see if I remember it correctly. I remember us sharing our recent sexual histories, as I think all good friends should do. I honestly cannot remember what she said about hers. It should be in the recordings, or maybe not. Maybe I overshared again and the gluttony was not reciprocated.

I took panic and BP pills today. I feel calm. That has not been the norm for me since starting this gig. Not exactly panic but a sure sense of urgency. That feels different today.

It’s the first Saturday for me on this job. Very quiet, as expected.

Feeling more at ease taking breaks in this building now that I have this keyboard ready to rip.

Nothing to say at this moment but that snow is starting to tear it up outside. I did not see that coming. I took 2 or maybe 2-1/2 panic pills and a bp pill earlier today. Feeling fine but want to drink tonight. day off tomorrow, Sunday. I’ll start real early and get myself good and tired so I can sleep like a conqueror Sunday into Monday

Yyyyyyyyyyyeeah, this is the genius at work…

Tonight want to listen to rest of the 212-255-2748 events. Some of them said they hoped all this was being recorded. I was not certain that it was but I found it..

Going to send this now, before going back to work and forgetting about it