Felt herded today, and I liked it. Almost 4 years into this and I still find that having a regular job is still fun, still kind of a novelty. I don’t feel especially valued or upwardly-mobile in terms of ever rising from this bottom-feeder level of corporata. But the subways are a trip. I feel the pulsation, the grinding, the throaty germinations of every bump and bounce. I’m also not at all bothered by going to work and coming back home in the dark of night. I live in a safe neighborhood, which means a lot. The produce stand dude has become my best friend, charing me $1 flat rate instead of bothering to weigh the daily Bartlett Pear and banana. What I’m finding less time for is this. The daily screed. Trains are unpredictable and energies are as well. I’ve been posting content to my websites since 1993, though I seem to remember nothing of substance before 1994. I don’t remember anymore but I had a text-only Lynx-friendly list of Gopher and FTP drops. The first image I ever added was, I believe, Yoko Ono’s butt. Forgetting about her butt for a moment I had never ever understood who could have considered her ugly or unattractive or any of the other things John alleged she had been called. Knowing nothing but her appearance I always thought she was maddeningly beautiful. Her music is challenging but once you get used to it it’s transparent. Oh, Yoko, why am I even thinking about you? Oh, right. Your butt once graced my web site. It might still be in there somewhere under the old TPoGH. So here I am at the workplace, on a Monday. Monday is my Friday. I get 3 days off. Holidays this year mean nothing to me except that the liquor store will be closed. Gotta go.