Monday, September 19, 2005

Signs of Autumn


me_1998
Originally uploaded by seaniz.

Autumn is here in South Korea, the signs are everywhere, even in my dreams. I've actually had to cover myself with a blanket in the night -- that's how cool it's becoming. When it's 35 degrees you don't cover yourself in the night, you want a fan to blow over every inch of your sweaty naked body. This morning I put on slacks (or pants as canucks call them) for the first time in five months I would have put on some socks too but I couldn't find any. I went through my closet looking for all woollens and leathers which tend to grow mold during monsoon season, and sent them to the dry-cleaners, they have returned already. It cost about $50 US for my thick rated -20 degrees Celsius leather jacket but my expensive wool suit only cost $6 US and a wool sweater only $2 US.

Next year I'd like to save myself some money by bagging my leathers and wools and buying one of those little dehumidifying boxes for my closet. Of course, that's what I said last year too. I did have the foresight to bag my woolen touque (a winter cap for the non-canucks out there spelled tuque by some) and thankfully it didn't grow any mold during the rainy season.
Last week I saw a woman in long stockings and a pleated school-girl style skirt, only far too short to be worn by a school-girl (I hope). This fashion style was all the rage last Fall, one can only hope it will come back again.

I'm also having dreams about the autumn of my life. Last night I dreamed that I combed my hair (a very strange thing for me to do) only to discover a huge gaping bald spot right along my central hair-line -- every man's nightmare. A couple of weeks ago, I also dreamed that my testicles had fallen off, ouch, that's got to make you wince, only to discover that younger more sensitive ones had spurt up in their place-- phew! I don't know what that's all about but dreams are supposed to be useful to us.

On growing bald as most men do. I would definitely go the Patrick Stewart route, I would not wear a baseball cap (but maybe a fedora in the Autumn), do the jelled comb-over or grow a pony-tail (with what little hair I have left around the circumference of my bald head). Granted a bald me would not look as good as I do in the picture above, as my body has rounded out a bit and that striped shirt of mine, which was my favourite, has since inherited plenty of holes and tears. I never found a decent replacement to that most favourite of all favourite shirts.

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