I had to leave work yesterday. I don’t know what was happening. I don’t get the kind of burning anxiety, where it truly feels like I am on fire. I don’t get that as long as I take the proper pills. But I still get triggers. Emotional triggers. I don’t see them coming but I do become aware of them. Yesterday had my heart pounding, hard and fast. My brain was like spaghetti. I could not do the job.

I’m thinking this will change if I ever actually make the move from this department to another, where things are said to be much mellower. It’s not that the current job is especially intense. But I do not consider it easy, which is a word commonly used to describe this job. Nothing is ever easy for me.

It is certainly not lost on me that there are far more taxing and emotionally challenging jobs to be had. You could evaluate disgusting pictures reported on social media, spend your day looking at pictures of dead dogs and other nastinesses. You could be mop boy at Show World, mopping up the jizz stains on the walls of the private booths where men jerk off to women behind a glass separator. Or you could be the State Department analyst who has to watch every second of ISIS beheading videos to verify their authenticity. That would be a shit job.

I had some fun with the new Bing last night. It’s a lot livelier than ChatGPT, and also a lot more accurate. I did, however, find that it incorporated misinformation off one of my sites, which I would not have anticipated. It seems my attempts to demonstrate ChatGPT’s penchant for bullshitting fact-free responses only amplified the errors by tricking Bing into thinking it was using reliable data. That was not my intent.

Whatever else there is to say it’s interesting to see the search genre come back to life. Nothing had changed on the big G’s SERPs for a very long time, Bing was a quiet alternative, and duckduckgo, for me at least, never gained traction.

As for yesterday’s departure from work it should be covered under the Family Medical Leave Act, which I now qualify for having worked 1,250 hours. It’s a scandal that someone with lifelong anxiety and panic attacks should have to wait that long before being allowed to leave when situations get to where the job cannot be done. I stayed through a number of episodes during those 1,250 hours, episodes in which I only barely was able to perform the functions of the job.

I’ve adjusted my morning routines somewhat. I’d been going to the 36th Avenue station but turned to Broadway after concluding that nothing is open on 36th Avenue or on the way to 36th Avenue. To buy this container of strawberries I had to go Broadway, and that comes with an extra perk that Broadway actually like it is waking up at 7am. The path to 36th Avenue feels barely awake. Sleepy. A new diner opened on 35th Avenue, where Rest-au-Rant used to be. I see very few if any customers there any time I pass.

I sent a lengthy email to an old friend last night, someone I thought had cut me off but who it turns out, seems to have thought I cut her off. I did not mean to reignite our storied and voluminous correspondences of yore. In fact I expected her to just ignore me. So I ended up with a lengthy but still succinct account of the women in my life pre and post Covid. The Japanese Waif gets a lot of copy but so does the Sperm Derm. She’s the only woman who ever made me jizz on her face. I didn’t like it. It felt wrong, and vulgar, which is not my style. You know the ancients did everything we do today, from nipple clamps and suspension chambers for BDSM degradation. But one thing they did not do was the facial, the money shot. Jizzing onto other’s facesjust wasn’t done until the 1970s.

The Sperm Derm also got me to pee on her. I actually liked that, and it made her happy. She was not prone to displays of emotion but for some reason the pee on her face made her look truly happy.

Oh wow, this hasn’t happened here that I can remember. I am hearing music in the sound of a vending machine behind me. I commonly hear music in the sound of an air filter or water going down a drain. This sounds like a Sacred Harp type vibe. Oh but then the machine shuts off. Concert over. It’s a refrigerated vending machine so I guess it will turn the cooling element back on in time.

Speaking of nothing I spotted this LinkNYC machine butchered by, I assume, a rock or a hammer. Have not seen this kind of carnage lately but I’m not looking for LinkNYC as much as in the past. People really hate these things. I don’t hate anything but do feel a sense of disdain for the failures and follies of the program. Such a squandered opportunity.