Dude who sells me strawberries, once in a while, will ask a whole lot of questions. Today he asked why I go to work so early. In an earlier episode he had asked what time my job starts. I told him 9am. He obviously remembered this, and perhaps had today’s line of questioning prepared days in advance. I explained that I like to be early. I can be calm, quiet, do some writing or reading. Omitted from the explanation was the fact that I have no one at home to wake up with, to roil the sheets with a hearty rumpus, so what else am I supposed to do? Getting up early is supposed to be a good thing, no? This time he asked for details about where I work and what I do. I’m not keen to divulge that info to most people but he seemed harmless, and luckily he had never heard of this company. Then, changing gears completely, he asked if I’d ever heard of CAVA, or maybe he said CAVO. If it’s the place I think he was referring to then yes, I’d heard of it. He smiled huge, and said it was his favorite place ever. I’ve never been in but I think I know the place, I think it’s a nightclub and I don’t really have much interest in night clubs.
I must admit, it is a question I’ve asked (to myself) of some people here who also get to work an hour or more before their start time. It is none of my business, of course, but I sometimes wonder what they are avoiding, or if that it even a reason for them to be here before 7am when they don’t start work until 9. One woman in particular, for whom I had a brief attraction, seemed so glued to this office that I imagined she used it as a shield of some sort. She talks to no one and seems to only use her phone to watch funny videos, never to communicate with others.
A couple of people here have asked why I get here so early. One person was bold enough to ask what I’m writing about all these mornings. I do not recall my answer but I remember it being suitably vague, but just short of implying that it’s none of his business, which is what I was thinking. One time I was writing a correspondence to a woman I briefly interacted with. She was a pornographer from one of the infinite quantity of free webcam sites, and we hit it off with 100% candid email discussions of masturbation, bucket list sexual acts, etc. As I was writing about masturbation to her someone here snuck up behind and asked what I was writing about. I closed the screen and said “Nothing now.” That correspondence did not last long. I did not think it would. But those kind of all-in correspondences can really light me up.
Today was rain. It felt stupid getting frenched (I meant “drenched” but prefer “frenched” so it stays) like I did because I know the rain will stop or at least slow down in 15-20 minutes, or rather by the time I get to work. There was a literal river flowing up Broadway from 31st Street toward 32nd. By my standards this all conspired to make me a little late. So this is all I have time to type, after not typing anything yesterday.
