2002-11-23 11:19 p.m.
down on the docks

A couple of weeks ago, I got called in for jury duty, only to find out that I could get a postponement...all after I'd carefully dressed in corporate skank (wrinkled dress clothes), overslept and didn't have time to shower or shave, and generally looked unsavory. Maybe it was karma for bad behavior, maybe it was just the supervisor taking me in and thinking she didn't want me visible in a courtroom, but she gave me a nice, fat six-month postponement.

I could've gone back to work...

eh? eh? Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. (Besides, a bitchy coworker of mine had already been sent to cover the desk, and she deserved it, working on a gorgeous day like that.)

I went to the piers at Coney Island instead, walking around the ghost town it becomes in the wintertime and taking photos.

to this day, I'm still wondering how the hell this parachute jump worked. I remember reading an issue of Firestorm in which a bunch of kids are playing on that (which has been out of commission for decades), and the platform breaks, and they get saved by Flamehead.

Total ghost town. The cliche eerie whistling wind from Westerns isn't so cliche at moments like this.

Cute little bastard. The seagulls kept trying to attack me for the little package of Kentucky Fried Chicken chicken strips I was snarfing down after I got off to the bus at Stillwell Ave. I kept yelling at them that it was cannibalism, but they didn't seem interested.

Yep, contemplative.

If there's a heaven just for me, it's got this view. Jimmy Buffett, eat your heart out.