Hacker 27 July 1998

*koff*, *koff* *koff*...

God damn that's annoying. My hothouse flower constitution has struck again - must have been out in the night air a little too much because my constant companion, Not-A-Cold, has returned. I don't get genuinely sick, I just feel almost sick.

Funny thing, though - seems like it almost always shows up on Mondays. You think -- ? Naaah.

Speaking of which: I was walking past City Hall the other day. It's so sad to see it all burnt up and wearing that shroud like an Italian widow (although maybe it's mourning Joe Alioto?). I noticed a detail I hadn't seen before, though, down at the street level: four stone men holding up the stone over the Van Ness side entrance. The interesting things were the expressions on the faces of the stone men. They all had this pained, bored, resigned look. It was awfully familiar.

And speaking of being alone for the rest of one's life, which I might not have been in so many words but should be understood to be a constant subtext here: I don't know if you read this article in Salon, "The Merry Recluse." I did. Shudder. Why must these articles always start off with a favorite meal, including a description using some hideously cute adjective like "tasty" or "zesty" or "zingy"??? I'm sure the author means well, and much of what she's saying here is valid, at least I think so. But oy:

Sometimes a day's conversation consists of only five words, uttered at the local Starbucks: "Large coffee with milk, please." I also work out alone, and I grocery shop alone and I cook and eat and watch TV alone, and if you don't count the dog (I do; many don't), I sleep alone at night and wake up alone every morning.

Translation: Fear me not! I am a normal member of your class, fellow Pottery Barn shoppers! I, too, make my own pasta! I am competent! I am self-actualized! I am driving up rents in your town! Oosp, wasn't supposed to mention that last part.

Look, you know, yes yes very nice, you hit all the little check boxes there. But if you're so successful, why do you have to convince me of it? And do I have to be as... precious as you to qualify for Happy Loner status? Can middle-class lowlifes find happiness too?

Uh oh. I just realized I've been sitting here for 10 minutes staring into space thinking about nothing. It might be time to go home. Bye now.

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

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