Mystery Meat 22 August 1998

By the way, yes I know that if you put yesterday and Sunday together, the result is one confused alien envoy. I thought that would be pretty apparent by now.

Anyway. I'm confused, but I'm not slow. Doesn't take more than four or five people telling me, "God, your hair looks normal now" to get the message across, no sir. So after an entirely predictable delay, Today is Purple Hair Day at last. Progress to date: owie owie owie owie. (Bleach.)

I'm sure I do a very sloppy job of dyeing (now there's a phrase that has echoes, yikes), but I'm cheap. As long as I can keep from giving myself purple ears this time. Beats heck out of loud ties as a conversation starter, too: "Say, is your hair really purple?" "Yes, it is." "Oh."

And on the subject of colors, read Blue Limbo by Terence Green last night. Nice little book. Nominally SF but really a cop story, and even more, a story about family. Always odd feelings, reading about families. A kind of fantasy nostalgia, missing the way I wished it was. My own family, well, it didn't work out. Nothing terrible, nothing great, it got me born and raised and that's not too shabby. It's such a vogue in this Left Coast world to cry about dysfunctional this and that, though, and I already did that enough. Plenty of people with truly horrible pasts, I'll let them have that subject.

As for kids of my own, I don't think so. That's the one thing that does scare me that's family-related: how patterns get passed on. Even with pets, I've caught myself reacting blindly, using the same enlightened techniques my parents - and probably their parents - used. Since that tends to lean toward the shouting and whapping end of the spectrum, I think maybe I'll just be a cul de sac.

I don't know, it's like going through the park and watching the dogs play. I'd never want to raise a dog in the city myself. But it's still fun to watch them running around like goofballs.

Jeez, thin gruel here, eh? It'll be back to work next week and I'm sure that will provide a bit more to say. Maybe I'll have figured out why this system keeps locking up every 30 seconds by then, too. Plays hell with one's rhythm, that.

Damn this stuff itches....

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

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