March 23rd, 2020



There. Showered and dressed. Later, I'll eat, then go walking.

Normally this would've been a work day. Which would have meant a uniform: a blue button-down shirt, gold tie, black vest and black pants.

I have the shirts, the tie, and the vest, all provided by my (presumptive once-again sometime later) employer. I also have the pants. I bought those. Bought them when I was starting at this job late 2018.

It honestly took me until yesterday, five days since I'd last worn my uniform, to realize there's nothing stopping me from wearing my work pants.

Technically, nothing's stopping me from wearing the shirt either, but that's kind of depressing to contemplate. I don't want to be Michael Douglas as D-Fens in Falling Down, dressing and even commuting for a job he no longer has (maybe my favorite disturbing detail of that film. Yes, in context it's disturbing). And the vest and tie are right out.

But. Pants. I'm in black pants that I would have been wearing on a Monday anyway. I just had to remind myself that I could.

Two haiku

Years ago, a line came to me. I liked it and made it the first line of a haiku. Years later I remembered part — part — of that haiku, and when I couldn't find the original I decided to retry writing it.

Going through a notebook today, I found the original. Here it is:

Impossible foods:
Chunky air, noise with ketchup,
Sliced Water on Rye.

That was from August 2001. In June 2016 I wrote this:

Impossible foods:
Barbecued brain waves; brick sticks;
Sliced water on rye.

Which do you like better?