crazy hair

it never ceases to amaze me how at the hands of barbers or stylists or hair doctors or specialists or whatever they're called my hair is always so docile and obedient and, well, tame. but the moment i get home or wherever it is i happen to be headed that day, it rearranges itself as it sees fit, and i can never get it to do what the barber/stylist/hair doctor/specialist/whatever had it do just half an hour ago.

it looked good at the hair salon. honest.

since this is the first haircut i've ever had done here in Spore City, the first haircut i've ever had done outside the Philippines, in fact, i'm actually putting up a pic in which you can actually see my ugly mug, c/o an el cheapo Genius webcam:



sort of.

and this is me noticing that the creepy pink clock is looming ominously in the background:



since i got here, just about the only things i've done (aside from work) are accumulate books i may never read and write crap no one will ever publish (and therefore, in the true spirit of universal justice, with the blessings of all the lords of karma and whatnot, chances are no one will ever read either. even if they *do* get published). i've decided, for this weekend, that i will consciously not do any writing for a change.

later tonight: ironing.

(oh yeah, one more thing, in case you haven't heard, M. John Harrison's Nova Swing is on the PKD award shortlist. that is all.)