Plums and a banana. Not the ritual one pound of strawberries I had started to question my allegiance to. A pound of plums costs about the same as the strawberries, and takes up a lot less space in my bag seeing as it is not contained in a bulky plastic container but a slender, clear bag. The plums are unexpectedly messy, though, squirting juices onto my shirt (I think, can’t quite see the spot) and hither and yon.
Subways were strange this AM. N did not stop at Queensboro Plaza, which I don’t remember ever happening. So if you needed the 7 to Flushing I guess you’d have to go all the way to Times Square? Or else walk from 39th Avenue, to Q’Boro, which would really suck. Sounded like it might be this way all week. For me it’s no problem but it seems like a mess for many others.
The obituary for my friend Joe posted a few days ago. It is a work of love and eloquence by Rachel Cline, his former lover who met with him just days before he passed. A sad part about it is how many of the links to his photo sites already do not work. Bills unpaid send websites dark with impunity. I remember it happened to a friend Dennis, whose website had a hilarious claim that he had built a LinkNYC killer kiosk and that it was already being deployed at the Port Authority and other transit hubs. No such thing existed but I had to wonder if he had even a roadmap kind of plan to actually build the fucking thing. I’ll never know. The website died with him, and while I did make efforts in this direction I failed to connect with any of the people who were supposedly working with him on that killer kiosk.
With Joe the loss is different. Unless the sisters are able to resume payments it seems his photoshelter and other sites will vanish. Photoshelter had hundreds of his photos and represented countless hours of his labor. On the upside it seems many of his sites and postings will endure, monetized into eternity by Instagram, Medium, and other “free” platforms. But photoshelter, visiblerepublic, those will almost certainly never return.
Yes, these plums are making me look and feel like a fucking slob. Something to consider as my breakfast diet evolves away from strawberries.
Sleep was unique last night. I don’t know why but I passed out early, probably around 6:30 or 7pm. I woke up at 7:48 thinking it was the next day, and that I had overslept. I even started the shower to get my ass in gear. I usually wake at 5:30am. Little did I know that, despite the matching amount of sunlight as would be present at 7:48am, I had only been asleep for about 45 minutes, and it was still Sunday, at 7:48pm. I felt obligated to go back to sleep, even though I could have stayed awake longer and turned in at a more sensible time. At times like this I feel like a small, small child, my existence insignificant and puntable. Anything could swallow me, or kick me into a sewer. I take out my feelings of vulnerability by fucking the pillows and masturbating furiously. This puts me back to sleep, the cum left to dry on my skin, as a continue fucking the pillow.
OK, this last plum is not gushing juices all over the fucking place. Maybe it’s been my attitude. My approach. Not deploying my lips in the proper way such that they might contain the explosions of plum goo.
The Rockefeller Center payphone has lost its dial tone. If the past is any indication it will return but you can never be too confident about anything involving public telephones anymore. The 14th Street/Union Square phone remains silent, leaving the only working publicly-accessible payphone in midtown at Penn Station. It was a bit of a shock to lift the Rockefeller handset and hear nothing. It’s been the most rock-solid reliable phone around for years.
Yesterday I thought I had a three-prong hitlist for scouting phones. I didn’t originally intend to check on Rockefeller but something crossed my radar about a phone booth on display at the Museum of Modern Art. I’m still not sure what it’s all about, and I cannot afford a ticket to the MoMA. I might see if I can get in free on Friday. OK, looks like I just reserved 2 tickets for Friday’s UNIQLO free night. Last time I checked in the free night was sponsored by Target. I didn’t think UNIQLO was such a magnanimous type of company.
I think the phone at MoMA is from the Bree Zucker collection on 6th Avenue from a few years ago.
As for my other prong I had planned to zip up to the Bronx on an express train but no express trains were running for the weekend. An expected half-hour each way jaunt looked like it would a 90-minutes each way time suck. Maybe I just wimped out but I have three days off this week and would rather do this during the week anyway.
This may or may not be a transitional week for me at the job. I am supposed to move, 6 months after being told I’d start in 2 weeks, to a division that should keep me in far less of a virtually continuous panic, or anxiety. I really do find this job stressful as hell, some days far moreso than others. But if the new division I’m heading to works out I’ll be happy, and maybe I can start to kick the BP and anxiety meds I need to get through a day here.
Just got the confirmation for free MoMA on Friday. Yay, I guess.