I posted this image to Facebook last night, then deleted it. I’ve never been uncomfortable being fully or half naked online, but it makes certain others in my life uneasy. I know you can post to FB such that only certain people see it or do not see it but it seemed too big a task for something so trivial.

This is from before I took a midnight shower, as I’ve been wont to do in recent years. The field recorder, which I also used for piano recordings, is there to capture my always-erudite, articulate, and incisive commentary, which I’ve continued to accumulate with hopes of one day finally doing something meaningful with at least some of it. I record myself talking about a previous day’s events, the coming day, or just whatever cycles through my head in the morning and, sometimes, at night.

It is, truth be told, a lot of monotonous drivel in which I sometimes remind myself of Jon Arbuckle, not from the regular Garfield strip but from Garfield Minus Garfield, the surreal, hilarious, and at times genuinely heartbreaking spin on Garfield that leaves you only with Arbuckle. It’s a must-read if you’ve never seen it.

I use binaural/3D mics to record in the shower, so you hear everything, from the din of existence to the distant sounds of police car sirens to my innards growling and telling me to stop talking and get thee to the shitter.

I don’t record the latter, by the way.

If I’m going to talk about this shower audio I might as well share some of it. So I changed this post from “Standard” to “Audio”, and now the audio takes center-stage over the shirtless picture of myself.

That looks like my post-sex hair but, sadly, it is not. I’ve had no haircut since at least January, maybe even December, making this the longest I’ve gone without probably since college. It doesn’t suit me well but I remain wary of getting into an enclosed space with someone’s face breathing directly into mine.

The last time anything like that happened was about a month ago, when I got a flu shot at the pharmacy. It was the first time I’d been in a room with a woman (and no one else) since mid-March. I can’t say I didn’t have my thoughts, but I let them go as quickly as they took hold.

I happened to spot one haircut outlet around here where they ventilated the place, with a large fan blowing and the doors wide open. That’s a start in getting me back into a barber’s chair.

I still cannot believe my dentist, in April, with the pandemic in full swing, thought it appropriate to send out repeated reminders that it was time for my 6-month dental checkup. I politely ignored it and am glad I did, as I was only beginning to suspect I had the virus. The dentist is an older man, a prime target for the virus, and unless he wears hazmat gear I could all too easily have passed it on to him.

I don’t need to go every 6 months anyway. My teeth are, as virtually every dentist I’ve ever seen has confirmed, perfect. I’ve been told that makes me good breeding stock, which was a weird first-date comment coming from a woman who was obviously into me but who I barely knew.