011: The same three songs

I guess there's not much to say tonight. I mean, things are pretty much status quo. I have been taking care of some business, but we'll see see how it works out later.

I also got a haircut. Now, it's been, I think, since February or March since I last had one, so I'd attained a sort of shaggy unkempt look. Now the coif is rather sleek, aerodynamic, and weather-resistant for summer. It's always tricky, your first night asleep after a haircut. Takes a bit to get your rhythm. Or maybe I'm just batty.

I got this barber who was a talkative younger lady. I've had her before, she's nice and for her, I practise the otherwise unfathomable business of barber's chair talk. "You're going to look so different with short hair." "Yeah, I'm actually running from the police. Don't tell anyone." "Hahaha," and so forth. Yeah, I'm real charming.

Also whilst at the barber, I'm approached by this weird bloke, an older guy, who wanted to know what I'd been up to lately. "Excuse me?" He told me, it was Tom Holtby's father -- he was a Cub leader with my dad, Tom was in my pack. I told him I was at Sheridan, blah blah etcetera, he said he'd tell Tom he saw me (and I therefore thought to myself, "awkwardddd.")

Last night was Father's Day. Not much to report other than we went over to dad's, he liked the gift we got him (a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black,) and we moved furniture around. Typical, I suppose.

Ecch, got a kernel in my gums.

Been one of those days, y'know?

Ah well. TCB.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotts