Any comments or questions about this site, please contact Bob Zolnerzak at






     The idea that SO much bullion is stored in the bedrock basement of the Federal Reserve Building was fetching, and then standing in the front of the Seventh Avenue IRT when it made a tortured curve just before Chambers Street led me to fantasize that the curve was AROUND that basement of the Federal Reserve Building, and how one could come down through the grills of the street, disguise oneself as a subway crewman working on the tracks, and use laser-beams to blast through the rock and get up UNDERNEATH the gold cache, using remote-control X-rays to determine the location of the cache from one subway line to another, and feeling fairly certain that they don't have sensing devices to show that something's coming up from the BASEMENT. But then, just thinking about it, there's the problem of coming up from below and getting CLOBBERED by a landslide of gold when some of the X-ray devices aren't working within too great a tolerance, or finding people buried in the linings for the building who'd tried to get rich quick before. Then there'd be the suspense-items of investigatory people from the subways wondering about this unauthorized digging crew (and fantasies also grew when I saw ONE of the guys in a bristly black mustache and a VERY handsome face and some TIGHT blue jeans down in the bowels of the ever-dark subway just below 42nd street, and I visualized a SIDE trip to DO someone), people from the building getting earthquake warnings without any other depot reporting them, and THEIR X-ray monitoring devices showing mole-people coming up from the center of the earth. But the ideas just come in essence and will sit in the folder for a dozen or so years before I can work on them, and by that time gold won't be worth anything, the country will be gone, and the subways will be buried under the rubble of the city, even though I might hope by THAT time there'd be a NEW golden culture rising from the Atlantic shallows off Bimini when the remains of Atlantis rise to the surface in a perfectly free-form climax to this story page which I don't seem to be capable of typing ONE line of without coming up with a couple of errors, and I want to get into the DIARY proper and get on with WORK, dammit!