I am ‘wichless at the moment. Lunch for me is usually a store-bought cold cut sammich, sometimes fancy most times perfunctory. Through fluky plops of planning I have none today, not yet at least. This would not be cause for consternation except that it’s a major holiday and all the sandwich makers in the FiDi are likely sandwiched between their mattresses and their blankets.

The R train was surprisingly full at 6am. Somebody carrying a GoPuff delivery container boarded somewhere around 49th Street and could not stop singing in full voice. Last night’s trek homeward was cluttered with people going to a Mets game. People going to Mets or Yankees games always seem to me like they have never, ever been on a subway before. 

Someone here who I sometimes talk to made me proud of my teeth. I can bite into hard things without concern. She cannot. A granny smith apple was all it took for her to lose one entire front tooth. I didn’t say anything but I happened to know she had a history of problems with this tooth because she posted something about it on social media 8 years ago, long before I knew her. That’s right, on my own time and of my own volition I looked her up online and found information about her that she had made available to the public. Upon discovery I said nothing to her about it. Horrifying world in which we live.

The Oculus was mostly empty, but I’ve never seen it completely void of people. The path from the Cortlandt Street R train elevator to the Fulton Center was almost completely void of humans but one dude appeared and seemed to be lurching in my direction. Everyone does that because I am magnetic, lovable, and delicious on every actionable element of my person. Everywhere I go I feel all souls in the room and in the arena falling deeply in love with me. That’s right.

The ballers and ravers at the St. James Deli were especially ebullient today. One dude was saying perfectly banal and innocuous things and the girls laughed and laughed and laughed. The dudes looked to be in their 20s, the girls looked 12 but as we know younger people today look a lot younger than when us older people were young.

It seems like a nonse thing to be excited about but a backlit keyboard that actually backlights the keys in a useful way arrived a couple of nights ago. It is fun to type in the dark. I’ve had a Logitech backlit for many years but the lighting was always dim but I just assumed that was as good as it got. Now I know better.

I have 3 days off after today. Today is Monday, but Monday is my Friday, and Friday is my Monday. I don’t think anyone but I likes this new 4-day schedule I’m on.

The sandwich situation seems to have been resolved. The place across the street is open today though they did not look open when I passed earlier.

I have a book of poetry on my desk. The book is called “Mistress” and it contains poems about how boring cunnilingus is for the writer. I probably should not have this on my desk at the workplace but there it is. I occasionally find porn washing up on my phone when I am here, usually left from earlier in the day. For a while I made daily connections with a pornographer in France but we got bored of each other. She sent erotic pictures daily but I asked her to stop.

I was at a children’s library somewhere in Manhattan, looking for a payphone. As I left I saw that in the outside-facing window display a book called “CUNT” was placed. I found it objectionable but said nothing, presuming righteous wokeness in response should I confront the library about this.

Reading poetry and preparing to be sandwichfied.

…

Standing in line behind other people, this somehow feels new to me. I got my damned sammich but the wait time seemed perilous. Dude ahead of me kept saying he didn’t order what was handed to him, then made other inaudible-to-me grunts. He was a type who cares not if others wait long spans of time on his account. It wasn’t that long a time but minutes can feel like drips of molten panic when you have no idea how long you’ll be subject to this unexpectedd wait time.

The place has one price in its printed flyer, another on its website, and they added $1 to the peice at point of sale. THis cost about double what something similar in Astoria would have cost. I’ve been to this palce 3 times and every time the price is different.

And now that I consummate the sandwiching of my morning I find that on top of everything else grousable they ignored my explicit instructions to not put onions and tomoatoes on this thing, because who the hell puts onions and tomatoes on a traditional Italian Sub? I won’t complain but I won’t return. It’s my bad planning that led to this. There is a vending machine here with a passable sandwich but for some reason there is only one left and it has no “Sell By” date like it should. It could be very old.

…

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I will walk the newly-opened pedestrian walkway on the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge. It should be fine but my only preemptive complaint is that one musst cross the entirety of Queens Plaza’s 2000 lanes of traffic to get to the walkway. You can go underground via the subway station but that’s not always a palatable location down there. And the elevator is broke for many months to come.

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Just to circle back: the sandwich was quite bad on all merits, not just the unwanted onion and tomato.