Feeling small. Like nothing at all. Decisions made but no consequence that registers on any scope. I sprayed more mold-killer today. The showers now feel antiseptic clean. White. Maybe this disguises the blackness of things. Filth. My little toes, my little legs, my body parts assiduously washed and dried, then promptly thrown into the slipstream of garbage and grandeur.
Seems as if critical innards turned into chocolate chips overnight. My body has become edible, and I should spend the day scooping organs from their chambers. Now that the pancreas has turned to stuffed grape leaves and months-old leftover chicken drumsticks miraculously replaced the kidneys I should feast upon the matter, eat myself until I can’t stop shitting it out.
I did not masturbate today. I did not think there would be time. Sleep was distressed, with a passing nightmare that the ceiling had exploded and water gushed forth, drowning Astoria. I could not extract myself from the bramble of sheets and heavy blankets in which I bury myself. I have easy escapes from those ersatz burials but in this thrashing dream I found none. The blankets would swallow me, let the water drown me.
I appraoched Broadway in Astoria, my first Broadway of the day, expecting to purchase strawberries or blackberries, but discovering I had no cash. I should have remembered that from last night, when I had to finish a cash purchase of a $15 item with 4 dollar bills and 4 quarters. It felt poorie but the cashier unflinched. Today I found more coins, enough to purchase the daily 16oz of strawberries. This first Broadway felt alive, and cranky. The next Broadway felt smooth, satisfied. I remembered the other Broadway in Queens, I think it was Howard Beach. Wherever it was it was like a dirt road leading to a shared driveway/parking lot. Not the image of Broadway most people might have. I still can’t believe the Knickerbocker Hotel referred to Broadway in Manhattan as “Broadway Boulevard.” Or maybe it was “Broadway Avenue.” Either way wtf.
I’ve had some distressing chat with the mighty GPT. I asked it what notable incidents had occurred at Old Calvary Cemetery in Queens. It shot back a list of incidents that never happened at Calvary and possibly never happened anywhere. When I asked for citations the answer was always the same: Sorry, I find no evidence to support the claim that such and so happened. But that doesn’t matter. People will believe what they want to believe, and if they want to believe a husband murdered his wife at Old Calvary in 1871, and the two are actually buried together there, then people will believe this.
I don’t know what would qualify as sensational at Old Calvary. The unsolved murder of the police officer at a Harlem mosque might qualify. An annual bike ride occurs each year, ending at the burial site of that police officer. I’m going to ask GPT again, right now, what notable incidents occurred at Old Calvary. Let’s see what variations it comes up with this time. Variations on nonsense and lies.
- Fire: In 1901, a fire broke out at the cemetery’s crematorium, destroying it completely. The fire was so intense that it melted the iron gates of the building. Fortunately, no one was injured in the incident.
- Titanic Victims: Old Calvary Cemetery is the final resting place of several victims of the Titanic disaster, including Isidor and Ida Straus, who famously refused to leave each other’s side during the sinking of the ship.
- Gang Violence: During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Old Calvary Cemetery was the site of several violent incidents involving rival gangs. Many of the victims of these conflicts were buried in the cemetery, and some of their graves still bear evidence of the violence they suffered.
- Famous Burials: The cemetery is the final resting place of many famous individuals, including several notable politicians, actors, and athletes. Some of the most well-known burials include legendary baseball player Babe Ruth, actor Jackie Gleason, and former New York City Mayor William O’Dwyer.
- Vandalism: Over the years, the cemetery has been the target of several acts of vandalism, including the desecration of several graves and the destruction of several memorials. Despite efforts to prevent such incidents, vandalism continues to be a problem at the cemetery
I don’t think any of this is true, although I start to see a possible pattern in this misinformation. GPT is convinced that Babe Ruth is buried at Old Calvary. He is in fact at the Gate of Heaven Cemetery, which is one of the St. Patrick Diocese’s allied cemeteries that includes Old Calvary. There are possibly Titanic victims at Calvary but I’ve never heard of them. I never heard of gang violence at Calvary.
What was troubling yesterday was when GPT claimed there had been a ghastly murder, a husband brutally slayed his wife at Calvary in 1871, and the two ended up being buried together. I asked for a newspaper citation. It linked me to a non-existant page at the New York Times. I asked again and it sent me to a page from the TImes that had nothing whatsoever with repsect to this murder it claimed occurred. But there it went, dutifully presenting citations as if they were really there when they were not.
I might go to Woodridge tomorrow. I have not left the 5 boroughs in over a year, I don’t think. I get around these 5 boroughs, of course, but have not exited them. Weather should be good and I could use a fresh New Jersey payphone stramble.
I just ate the last strawberry, the one that had previously functioned as a tiny bone in my left hand. Other strawberries had performed critical functions involving respiratory and cognitive regions. I will not be performing in those respects today because I ate myself. I am smaller now than ever.