Nothing to remember, so far, from this day. I am alone at the job today. Staffing at this gig is unpredictable. Feels like I barely slept. Too much vodak, I fear. Hot amd miserable outdoors. I’m at a desk, sweatless. My shirt is dirty. I did not know of this until moments before arrival. Dress code stipulates that clothes must be “clean.” This shirt is not filthy, it just has a streak of darkness where I had hung my glasses from the opening that begins at the last buttoned button. My pants are also not spotless. Everything blurs today. There was a conspicuously annoying panhandler on the sparsely-populated 4 train. His voice reminded me how the toilets here, the sound they make when flushed, is the voice of Satan complaining for having to swallow our piss and shit. The noise scrambles and races throughout the space, alerting everyone and anyone that someone just relieved themself. Amazing how a human voice can sound like a toiilet flushing but this man pulled off that unthinkable trick. This job yesterday was awful. Worst day I’ve had here. So far things are calm. I feel like masturbating but should save myself for later. So I said I remember zero but there came a memory of the flushing-toilet-mouthed panhandler. There was also a misophonial irritation involving the automated announcements. The last one, which announces when the station is accessible amd where the elevator is located, was drowning in static so much you’d think it was coming over a shortwave signal. It really irritated my brow. It occurred at every stop: 42nd Street/Frand Central; 14th Street/Union Square; City Hall/Brooklyn Bridge, and Fulton Street. The automated face always says “FULTON” like it’s a curse word. She fucking punches it with her voice. Whoever she is, the human who voiced that word, she really fucking hates FULTON Street. If it is contagious the hatred has taken its time infecting me. Will I ever come to hate FULTON Street as savagely as the robo voice on the subway? I hope not. Hate is a powerful toxin. Hating a street would be the beginning of a spigot of hate for all things. If it starts with streets what will stop me from hating lions, roosters, sunsets, and blowing my nose when needed? I cannot remember the last time I watched a sunset. It’s among those pasttimes in life that makes me ask why would anybody do that? Who has time, or patience, to sit and experience the movement of the earth as the proverbially  sets while actually going nowhere. I may have watched a sunset at Daytona Beach, but I wasn’t watching it with avid interest.