Generation (at sign)
Sparked by a number of items, and looking through my astrology lens, it’s the “Generation (at sign).”
Boomers, X-ers, and then, the lovely “in-betweeners.” And now? The (at) Generation. Log on to check to see where the party is, IM for everything. Me? I don’t do IM. At all. A couple of my friends, tweeners, actually, occasionally message my phone, but more than a convenience, I find that annoying. Partly because the phone service charges a dime for every text message, and I prefer to regard a phone as an analog “talking” device. But that could be me.
IM, typing notes on a phone, and so forth? I got over that years ago, back in the day when I did that on, get this, dial-up. Had a dedicated line for the computer, even, like, a modern thing.
Now I’m old-fashioned.
Timing:
It happened, right between the second and third cup of coffee, Wednesday morning. I’d been listening to some upbeat music, and I don’t have clue what to call the stuff, King Sunny Ade.
Afternoon Freeze:
I’d forgotten how the world looks different from under the four-inch brim of a Peter Brothers’ 5X Black Beaver (felt hat). I slammed it down on my head as I left to brave Austin’s freezing rain and ambled off to meet important clients for an afternoon reading.
With a slouch hat and a long overcoat, part of the brim cocked low against the harsh north wind, I felt like Odin, wandering around, half-blind. In a cowboy hat, not to confuse mythologies.
Still, what echoes back, what I kept thinking about, is how the world looks different from under a brim like that, and how I feel sorry for folks who don’t get a chance to dress like that – you just don’t know what you’re missing.
