« Feeds Off Nerves, Contents of Stomach, and Itself | Main | Ho' Hum »
July 17, 2005
Staff Lament Over (()a Lossy Kind of Digital())
I’ve lost numbers.
Think I’ve got all the coppings in my head, just not sure I remember one of the quantities correctly. I think it was a 10. Could have been an 8.
[
Another example of…
Our Staff Lament:
The most writable is least writed.
]
*UPDATE: I solved the 8-or-10 conun (though I really wasn’t that worried about it, honest. You people all think I’m unnecessarily obsessing/-ive…[Could the exisitence of a necessary obsession [i.e. not a particular example, but the possibility that an obsession bear the the status/condition/quality of necesity] be argued? Seems the more an obsession is viewed positively, the more it begins to slip out of the wrapper—that particular configuration of letters—and into another, such as ‘dedication.’ )!>
^^ As he was on his way, I prepared two stashes of cashes—one of $80 (4x20) set-aside for Max so that it wouldn’t need to be conspicuously counted outside at the car, neighbors on the stoop watching and realizing that car stops but never parks like that almost every day, and the other a stash of petty cash to pull from at the candy story for smokes, VitaminWaters, lighters, etc. Cashes stashes separated, pocketed and placement-noted, I did my business at the bodega. Sat on the stoop to wait for Max a million. Then he came. Then I made my purchase, and a joke about dressing up for the party that night, what time was he coming to pick me up? 1:00. As soon as I got back up to my room, Max was on the telephone. Yo, you gave me $4! Oh, sorry. I’ll be right down. At the winder, I say, “What, have prices gone up?” then, “Damn, I thought I pulled it off.” So, $4 dollars, four bills, could only have been $80.
Da’ Digitalia, annotated*
[*anecdotal appendages added as area-appropriate only]:
+6, R., Fri 15 Jul early pw [‘post-work,’ duh]
(tried to put together an 8-ball deal but R’s connect in the Bronx or something)
+8, M., Fri 15 Jul late eve
+10, “One” of the house boys on the block, Sat 16 midnightish,
(He took me upstairs just in hallway where his stash in some vacuum filter thingie type object on floor. I’m not type to wheel and deal much, and much less in illegal transactions in insecure locations. I get ‘n’ go. But we were off street and I figured 80or90 might get me 10. He said he couldn’t. Punched his phone number into my phone, into the phone number acceptance area of the phone, using the numbers of the phone located in the keypad below the phone number acceptance area displayed in the phone display [hehe]. Said his name was One. On way out, he said next time he could do the deal.)
+6, Spark, Sat Jul 16 midnightisher
(Planning a short stop-by and smoke session at Pam and Snook’s and anticipating that as I headed to Habib’s for my glassware, it hit me that I could buy more than one stem. Hey! What a world we live in! So obvious. Why hadn’t I ever thought of it before? Thought of it this time as a nice evening of the playing (smoking) field; they’re sometimes digging out broke to the nub (ok, once) or gone-through-a-clean-or-two piece. But I could have bought bulk before to a. have mid-night freshness, b. avoid the stop-off on the block (at least a few decent reasons for that), c. breakage, bodega closed, or other eventuality backup. So, I’m buying one for each of us tonight and an extra for me for home when Spark comes in and greets me (I kind of like the idea or sound of a crack dealer giving some one a ‘greeting.’ Has the word become that Hallmark saturated or is there another, dated quality that it carries?). “What’s good?” (Aw, crap. I could see what was coming, though I did not expect—despite a reference or 2 to it—the extent to which it came.) “Yo, Spark. S’up.” “What you need?” “Auah, I copped. I’m good.” “When?” “Just now.” “Why you didn’t call me?” [‘White lie prudent here, man. Come up with something! At least soften it a little!’ I heard my Assigned Angelic Advisor intone (because that’s what guardian angels {the old term, used until deemed non-PC} do—they intone].
[[fill this in little cracker, fill it in with rest of story]]
+6, Max, Sun 17 July 9ish?
[[still think i’m missing one because i at one point did the math at was mildly bemused that it had been 36 bags in 36 hours, a dime an hour, and that was well before sun eve get. was sat am. but possible that was a miscalc.]]
Posted by peligrito at July 17, 2005 9:09 PM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://atribology.net/mt/mt-tb.cgi/181
Comments
Post a comment
Thanks for signing in, . Now you can comment. (sign out)
(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)