I’m willing to bet that most people I work with here do not spend any portion of their break time carousing lower Manhattan for payphones and LinkNYC machines.
Is “carousing” even a word?
Today was a rare occurrence of me not doing that. Did not check on the carousel at 77 Water to see if the 6 Payphone Radio cards I deposited there remain today.
Since posting videos and such of those payphones I’ve noticed a steady trickle of photos of the 77 Water Street payphones on IG. Evidently word travels about such things, even when YouTube view counts seem not exactly blockbuster.
Popularity does not equal influence, or merit. Popularity equals popularity. A simple, even inane equation.
I feel like I look good today. I am the sexy, drool-worthy man I was born to be. The women see me and instantly go beyond the superficial, filling their mental blanks with knowing, foregone conclusions about the stallion-sized schlong I will spank across their faces with just a wink of invitation.
They squeeze my asscheeks with their eyes, stroke my balls with their mundane gestures, work my cock with invisible hydraulic-powered fists that grip me tight.
All I can do is be present. I am a beaming, throbbing, glowing creator of countless orgasms in progress.
… Truth ne told, I don’t think anyone here pays any attention whatsoever to me. That’s fine. I still feel beautiful, and hope you do too.
…
It rained earlier but I got out of the building just as the sun came out. It looked beautiful, caressing the curves in the road and lapping against the buildings.
I see people who live across the street from where I work. They have trophy dogs and 15″ ceilings. The dogs come to the windows, looking happy, assaying whatever they can see from their perch above John Street.
I leave objects lying around this place. Same as with the radio cards, I guess, but more subtle and less rewarding.
Most recently I left an apple …. thing that you pull out from the top. Can’t think of its name. But it’s a small, nondescript thing that presently sits by a window overlooking Maiden Lane. It has been there for a week now. No one cleans that corner of the window, evidently, but the objects has moved slightly. I assume this was someone either sitting on the thing or else dropping the handbag on top of it. I have since restored it to its nondescript location where I hope it sits for eternity.
