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October 03, 2004
...riah hair used to grow on top of the head alone. there was plenty of it, it was blond, then dark blond, then whatever it was called. just having woken up from a dream of pulling out giant grey whiskers out of various odd areas of my face might have something to do with the change of hair growth patterns all over. Oh well. Things could be much worse than that, of course. And they will be. I used to think of our balding upstairs neighbor as somebody who knew more things. "It is his thinking that pushes that hair out of his head," my father used to say when I would point at the Dr. Katzy's head from our 8th floor window. It is difficult for me to think this way somehow. Maybe my thinking is not what pushes my hair out. Maybe it is just age. Or stress. Or despeartion. Or frustration. Or pain. Or a combination of everything... the sun is marvelous. the light outside is magical. i love being alive... around midnight on friday. right now... i am in pain. and it is not a good one. it would be very nice to just have a car and to drive for about four or five days... maybe... or maybe longer... maybe in circles... maybe not... this is not how things were supposed to look like at this point in this movie. but i guess things are running quite well, according to some really much bigger script. And i do not know why I even started writing about hair. I have only good memories connected to hair right now... Hmm... the strands of thought are just flowing in all strange direction now. And they are thinning. And ... oh boy... picture below is badly compressed, lowest point in western hemisphere...