Feeling better today, although my main symptom is now the coughing of bronchitis. Five capsules of Amoxicillin are left over from the last time this condition forced me to seek medical attention; hopefully taking them will negate the need for another doctor visit. Chills not serious today, unlike yesterday & the day before when even with the thermostat set to 73° I was wearing layers of clothing inside, including this Icelandic sweater I bought at the Reykjavik airport which is so toasty I usually can't wear it indoors. I was also wearing a hat... I'm sounding like William Shatner in that "Outer Limits" episode "Cold Hands, Warm Heart": He'd been to Venus and landed his ship there briefly, against orders; but that's all in the past - now that he'd returned to Earth he couldn't get warm. Not even in a sauna (my first exposure to the concept of that little room I now visit just about every other day). He was still cold until he talked them into placing him inside a space-vehicle test chamber, which was then cranked up so hot it killed the Venusian miasma he'd picked up off-world. I don't have that particular episode in my archives, but I did succumb to this second-season <1> urge tonight by re-viewing the subtly futuristic world of "The Duplicate Man", with its ridiculous "Megasoid". Nifty theremin in the soundtrack; I couldn't tell which one was which when they got together.

More science fiction television from the 1960's: I had fun perusing this site today. It's all about "Lost In Space", a program I saw too much of, lacking other entertainment options at the time. The link takes you to the section about the much superior "Space Family Robinson" comic books, which were among the first I ever had, and predated the show. I think #3 was actually the first, if we ignore "Classics Illustrated" and stuff like Donald Duck.

Great tirade in today's Salon from Steve Erickson. He wants the impeachment trial in the Senate dragged out for as long as possible, to bring the culture war to a head:

Those of us who have been too long on the defensive should finally stop sniveling and man the barricades.

The Next Morning...
Was thinking about composing a Helvetican email; on a whim I dialed a bunch of digits instead and W answered her phone in Switzerland. The connection was amazingly clear, lacking those slight speed-of-light delays associated with transmissions between geosynchronous com-sats - we must've been talking via fiber-optics ground lines. She's working in a factory three days a week, building components to what she's not exactly sure, while enduring a petro-chemical stench. She continued her marketing pitch; I said to count me out, again, but I'm not sure I'm getting through. Too bad I didn't meet the boyfriend-inventor when I was there - all we've had's a couple emails.

Reading bits about hair on various websites made me think of a party I attended in Venice near Gold's Gym. This would've been in 1993... at some point the flamboyant host broke out a couple boxes of wigs, so we all put on big hair - even the few small children in attendance got in to the theme. My choice was first long and blonde, but it got in the way so I switched to a bushy black. Since it was daytime and nice out we were all hanging around outside, by the grill, but shielded from passers-by view by a tall fence.