Great dirty fuck! Maybe since I ain't a family man, and make random silly voices, and completely disregard any standard office norm, the one fellow coworker I have been priveledged to share the control room with today believes he should monitor all my activities. Just went behind me and altered one of my tickets. Then he reacts in a shocked manner when I cuss him out for it. Even if you were my manager you sitcom reject, I wouldn't give you any respect. Salt free, fat free, broth slurper. Handle your shit over there, shoo shoo, and I'll be chill over here. I mean it melvin, bounce.

Honestly peeps, don't even casually or good naturedly poke the bear in the morning. I am full of volatile substances easily disturbed with the slightest jostle before noon hits. Step away from the spanky.

Ah the satisfying silence of hurt feelings. He can cry to his wife about me when he gets home. "Goddamn pale scruffy caveman slacker. He's such an asshole, doesn't even say 'bless you' when I sneeze." Winge winge winge.

Squattin christ on a cracker he threw me off track.

So, my head, instead of resting last night, was ruminating on my initial arrival to NYC. Shocking to all, I utilised what creative arty talents I had and without much effort did well scholastically at Forest Park Community College of St.Louis. Mostly art classes, what the fuck did they expect from the mad doodler and defacer of textbooks. Nailed a solid 4.0 average my last three semesters, and built a freaky yet evidence of potential portfolio.......

Interruption. Twisted up here. Generally I can whip out my vocabulary shotgun and blast a word through the clogs. But fuck if I can't figure out the word other than portfolio I want. Portfolio is adequate, it fulfills basically, a better word is evasively scurrying behind my eyes. Forcing you to swim in my own thought process here. Goddammit. Seriously, I have a headache now, and feel head constipated. Fuck. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Built a decent ( gack ) portfolio, garnered some scholarships, and unlike my senior year of highschool was accepted to every university I applied to, including NYU. Film geek all the way, NYU the land of Scorsese, Jarmusch, Spike Lee, Joel Coen, and for a semester Woody Allen, I was there already.

First time I had ever been here in NYC was when I came here for college at NYU. Stumbling out of Laguardia, a stuffed US Air Force fatigue green duffle bag over each shoulder ( one was my pop's, the other from gramps from when he flew the airborne grunts over Europe during WW2 ) and both hands gripping the leather straps of a decent sized trunk. Crammed everything into the back of a taxi. Black guy, first New Yorker I interacted with on his home soil. I was so wide eyed and mouth agape, that I couldn't possibly remember any particulars of our conversation. I do recall that it was jovial and he told me what I should check out.

I knew within minutes I was gonna be a New Yorker for life. I kiss the skyline everytime I return home to New York from wherever I've been. Christ, that first year of letting New York get into me, possibly the most invigorative I've ever felt. And New York had a real sweet and cool flavor in the early 90's. Made me an unconditional lover.

Before I completely zone into a cascading reliving of my initial New York experiences, I should stop. The jobby is no place for pleasant reminiscing. Well it ain't allowed to be anyway during the day shift. Constant interruptions from these scratchers. These memories are too valuable to be befouled with work pauses. Fear not the desire to record them all exists, and will chug away soon. Gonna be a long day.