An art magazine (online only) lightly rewrote and published the New York Times article from last month about the alleged “last payphone” of New York. I was quoted in the piece, but not really. My comments were attributed to the head of DoITT, who presided over that bizarre, half-baked canard of an event in which two of what were really about a dozen remaining streetphones were hauled off to slaughter.

I advised the magazine (online only) but received no courtesy of a reply. Instead my quote was excised altogether and the wording rejiggered to say that these were among the last public streetphones in New York. It was I who, in that aforementionied email, added that there was no way those were the last phones of their kind but that there was no putting that genie back in the bottle. Bad information is deathless.

I don’t even know why I bother with these little well-intentioned gestures. It would have been fine by me if the magazine (online only) had properly cited the person who actually said those words. I didn’t even expect that. I expected to be ignored completely, as is typical in these type of attempts at communication.

But they did what so many do. They ignored me on a personal level but used my comments to improve their story, no citation required (evidently).

Why do I even care? I am happily employed in a position where I had intended to leave my past entirely behind me. I cannot seem to do that. It’s a matter of will, or lack thereof. I still make purchases for me past livelihood as if I can write off the expenses, when I no longer can.