Might have something going with a Staten Island woman this week. Or maybe not. I’ll take it or leave it.
Stream of consciousness thoughts from the trek to work:
I like working. I like being part of the rat race, but why are we compared to rats? Whose unkind analogy was that?
I like being part of something, around people, even if this job has shaped up to be pretty lonely in its way. Isolation remains the norm. It’s hard to develop friendships.
The owner of the POPS at 100 WIlliam needs to clean up their act. Garbage aplenty, some left since Saturday.
Still hitting on the cashier even though I don’t know what she looks like under the mask, and I can barely understand a word she says.
I could hardly look away from a beautiful young black woman on the subway today. She looked ready for the beach. On the 4/5 train I assume she comes from the African enclaves of the Bronx. I got a couple of payphone pictures in those areas but never did anything with them.
When I use the word “assume” I invariably remember a priest from high school saying “WHEN WE ASSUME IT MAKES AN ASS OF YOU AND ME.” Such wit. Such scathing, burning wit that annoyingly lingers through the years in my head.
