How to fix an Epson 3170 scanner.

After two days of trying different software solutions to make this piece of shit work, I looked inside, and found the real problem.

You see the two shiny screw heads holding down that metal plate under the pulley? The plate was originally held down by two little plastic tabs. You can see where each one broke off on each side of the plate. I drilled two holes in the case, and used two bolts I had lying around to hold down the plate. That plate has a spring to tension the belt that moves the scanner lens back and forth. Those two little plastic tabs never had a chance. Great design, Epson.

They just decided cops in Houston have to cover their tattoos.

Her mom was asking about me.

Tonight was one of those nights. Made me want to quit. Made me want to put a mic stand into someone’s face. Made me realize the only reason I stay is so I’m there when they close the doors for the last time. See it with my own eyes. Maybe take a picture. Closure. I don’t think it’s gonna last till the end of the year, but I know I won’t.
Some friends apparently have plans for me. They involve moving me to Texas. I had a great time, and while the food and thrift stores and bats are all fantastic, it was because of the people. But I’m not done with New York yet. Even though New York sometimes seems done with me.

Why is it hotter here than Texas?

Flying in to LGA tonight, I thought about how sometimes it looks like a map. For some reason, it surprises me. Makes what I’m looking at seem more distant. Less real. I didn’t think the same thing would happen at night, but I was wrong. While looking down waiting for some familiar shapes to trigger the map overlay in my head, I saw an explosion. It startled me until the next explosion flowered into a purple ball. Fireworks somewhere in Jersey. The red orange flashes of thunderstorms in the distance distracting me for a moment, I spotted the Verrazano, and took it from there. Downtown Brooklyn. The Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Williamsburg bridges just where they should be. Ground zero was directly below, and out of view, but then I saw the Empire State building. Times Square is out of control. I think I could actually read some of the billboards. It’s a matter of time before they start making signs just for overhead traffic. Central Park. 59th St bridge. I get a little lost beyond that point, but Yankee Stadium was obvious. We circled around, and landed hard. I love those approaches that are over water. Diving down into the river, suddenly hitting land.
The BQE was stopped cold, so we took Northern Blvd. Saw more of this city that I need to explore. Made a note to go back.

Didn’t find whatever I was supposed to find. Thought it would find me.

Spoke to a friend on the phone while she was tiling her bathroom. She was a bit stressed out. Worried about messing it up. I wanted to tell her that no matter what she did to her bathroom, it could be fixed. Then, later, I thought about how she somehow saw the task as a parallel of her life. I wonder if however badly you mess up your life, it could always be fixed.

There was a time when I would go out just to see her. Whichever her there was at the time, I usually knew where to find her. Nothing ever worked out in those scenarios. Eventually I stopped doing that. Somewhere along the line I just gave up. Instead of trying something else.

I’m concerned with what my daily activities will be when my job goes away. Suddenly having nothing to do those six nights a week that were reserved for work sounds really good to me. I’m thinking I need to keep up that schedule. Maybe cut back to four or five nights.

Everything in here is wet. Paper feels heavier than it should, and limp. The wood of the chair I sit on feels softer. The wall to wall feels cooler under my feet than a carpet should in the summer. Skin sticky. Texas can only be worse.

They banned alcohol in Cancun. They don’t want anyone drunk during the hurricane.

You never know.

Last night’s show, twenty minutes before the second band’s set, the drummer gets a phone call informing him that his mother died. He throws things and runs out. Half hour later he’s on stage playing.

This guy is making it smell bad in my apartment.

One out of one hundred Americans is schizophrenic. Heard that today.

I don’t know if you read this thing, but I have to get a wedding gift together. I kinda spaced while I was sick. How do you feel about a nice picture?

I keep my friends close,...

So why am I talking to this guy? I don’t know all the details, but I think he did some things that weren’t too nice to some people I care about. It’s okay because the whole time we’re talking, I’m thinking about what an idiot he is for letting go of a fantastic lady. And somewhere in there, maybe he knows what I’m thinking, and knows I’m right. I’ll say it again, we all gotta live together. But once that place I work disappears, well, I’m already making a list of who I want to stay in touch with. Who I don’t want to miss. She’s on it. So far, he’s not.

It’s OJ’s birthday.

It’s also Dawn’s birthday. That’s how I remember OJ’s.

They just did the dumpster switch in front of my building. It involves leaving an overloaded dumpster in the middle of a busy street. There are a few items left behind as obstacles: TV stand, tires...

A little better.

But I still feel like total shit. I have a fever. My hip hurts for some reason. My fireworks plans didn’t happen because I felt like total shit. I feel like I took the night off for nothing.
I couldn’t even make it out to dinner. The fourth is an odd day for me since it’s the birthday of a late friend. I’m generally okay with it, but feel like I should be around for anyone who needs to talk, or wants to just be with someone who understands. So dinner came to me. Thai delivered here for a friend and me. Then, I got to talk on the phone to someone who I haven’t talked to in a very long time. We talked of futures. Wants. The frightening prospect of future wants. Getting together this week. After making her late for her fireworks plans, we said goodbye, and I took my temperature.
100.4 was enough to get me into bed, but once the fireworks started, I had to try to watch since the sound was gonna keep me awake anyway. They were kinda disappointing again this year. Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe it’s the obscured view I get from literally hanging out my window to see. Maybe I’m too old. Head throbbing, I went back to bed.
It seems like there are way more illegal fireworks than usual this year. The mayor’s in Singapore, so I guess he’s not able to take care of things at home. It’s close to midnight, and they’re still at it. Hard to get any rest.
A once a year opportunity to walk around with a camera while fireworks light up the sky, and it just didn’t happen. Frustrating. Sad.

Sunday.

Another one of those seemingly wasted days off. I have a few more hours to do something.
Happy birthday K.
Here’s a picture.

Guilty. Victim.

Tonight was one of those nights at work that seemed like it would never end. When you look at the list and say, “what the fuck! There’s five more bands?!? How did this happen?!!??”
It did end.
I Just looked out my window to see which car alarm was going off, and saw some guy taking a piss right out front. I also noticed the cops were gone. From my eavesdropping, I could tell someone broke into #24. Or tried to.
I said it out loud already, but I’ll try to put it in writing. Ever hear stories of how a group of people will witness a crime, let’s say a mugging, and all the witnesses will have completely different descriptions of the mugger and how it took place? One person will say it was a tall man in a red sweater with a knife, and another person will say it was a little guy in green waiving a gun around, etc. Well, I think a lot of break-ups are like that. You can say, “we’re through. Goodbye.” And your ex will hear, “I need some time, but we’ll work it out.” I’ve been on both sides of this coin. Breaking up is hard, and breaking up well is even harder.
We all need to stop using the excuse of, “I can’t say it because I don’t want to hurt you.” Bullshit! You can’t say it because you want everyone to like you. If it’s something hurtful that needs to be said, not saying it will hurt twice as much in the long run. Again, both sides.