After my business meeting in Fort Worth, I had a small space of time before my flight.
I stopped in a chain haircut place. My hair is simple to cut. As I have not been willing to spend an hour drying it since the feathered 1970s, it must be cut into sub-atomic particles, as it is otherwise too wavy. Number 3 shears, which is cut-speak for "ravage my scalp". Today, though, the part on top was left with a kind of 50s crooner wave. Not really my thing, but it'll comb 'round right.
I had a nice pho at a place in Bedford, and made my plane on time. I finished the book about the fellow who lived among near-Amish Mennonites as part of rejecting technology.
I loved the book. I remained nearly entirely unconvinced of the main assault on technology. But it's an interesing paradigm. I still want my internet and my mp3 player and for anti-biotics and small machinery to cure many global ills. But I do wish everyone could feel what I feel when I take a long hike on a prairie trail. I like to imagine that everyone does, in their own way.
I thought about going to see Built to Spill tonight here in Los Angeles, at the Fonda.
But I determined that work and rest dominated, so I instead walked to a sandwich shop in Westchester and had a roast beef sandwich. It was fun being on the part of Sepulveda in which planes fly "this close" overhead.
Tomorrow, I have a hearing, a brief meeting, a flight back, and then I pick up my dogs from Pappy's Pet Lodge, neither of whom is a "daddy's girl". My wife arrives later that night from Boston, and our lives return to a less traveled keel.