Yesterday sent me out to Queens Village and FLoral Park via Jamaica. I could have crafted a more efficient route but the Q110 connected to the Q36 and amazingly, a return Q36 bus appeared magically at the very moment I needed it. I had gone to Jamaica via the E express, but the return trip was on the F train. I don’t knnow why but I’m exhausted today from yesterday’s jaunt. My mission, of course, was to find a payphone and potentially determine its former owner. I did find the phone but no trace of who left it behind was found. It is at 240th Street and Jamaica Avenue, at a gas station. That location is, I discovered upon arrival, actually in Nassau County. That doesn’t mean anytthing except that I made a short video of it and added it to my “Payphones of New York City and New Jersey” series on YT. I’m not going to rename the whole series on account of one location and I doubt anyone would hate on me for including a phone outside of those boundaries. But then people will hate for anything. Hating is a very popular hobby.
I had a slight sore throat upon waking but it’s mostly washed away by water and mouthwash. I was thinking I would stay inside all day today but as usual that’s not going to be realistic. I want to see the new passage way at Grand Central that I heard about on the radio. At present I think there are two sets of escalators, stairs, and an elevator for access to the 7 train from the ground level. If I understood correctly the news radio said there is now another passage to the 7 train that was blasted out of solid materials. Nothing to get hoopla-ready, or is it? I don’t know.
A few days ago I found myself at 345 Adams Street, asking myself how I arrived at such a crowded, unpleasant, ire-inducing area. Every attempt to secure a slice of pizza failed, as virtually every storefront with a sign promising pizza was closed and out of business. I found maybe 2 places still open but they were packed and crowded with humans. I don’t mind humans but the crowds were not good for me. For no reason I decided to report a series of massacred bollards. It’s unlikely I will ever see the repair of these things but I like to feel useful sometimes. Here’s how they looked:
Oh fuck it, I can’t find the picture and who cares anyway. I’m still getting sex and porn pics from the woman I talked up a few weeks ago, as I was just reminded while browsing recent photos from my camera. They’re beautifully crafted. Her photos, that is. She had one where she was sitting on the keyboard of an upright piano with her legs spread that brought back some memories for me. Oh year.
Alrioght, this is rambling/trambling and I’m going nowhere but out the door.