wanna go HOME now...

  Stale, Like The Donut

12 April 1999

1:43 PM: Short hair now. Black hair, no fading, better for lazy person. Dye on scalp, very visible. Translation: hair on scalp, fading fast. Oh well. Die soon, suppose. Dye now first. Ha ha. Uh oh, made this joke before, I think.

More email exchange from Mary. Might have dinner this week. I'm not nervous or distracted, nope nope. Does Bender sound like he's drunk to you? It's almost but not quite. Nice day, huh? Man, DEVO was such a great band. George Lucas is an Ewok, look at him. Wonder if he uses conditioner.

Oh dear.

3:43: Man, that is such a coincidence. The exactly two hours later bit. I do not plan this out, I promise. And that really is what time it is. "Man." Hey, like, wow, I'm from the 70s, yeah.

Clever people, these postmen. Who could resist buying a Malcolm X stamp to send in one's tax returns? Not me. Though it wasn't a return, strictly speaking, just the paperwork for my online filing. Umm, yes, that kind of doesn't make sense. But there it is. Still haven't dug myself all the way out of the SecureTax hole with the state. It's painful, putting nearly $2000 into your account and knowing that it's all going away again. We only knew each other briefly, my inflated refund and I, but I feel that we made the kind of deep spiritual connection that only comes once or twice in a lifetime. I'll miss it, but I know that wherever I am, it'll be out there, watching over me.

I'm kinda tired in case you can't tell. I wish I wasn't so easily smitten. That, or that the people from the new, young, vigorous Web company downstairs would go around to the back to smoke. Sigh.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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