Haircut!

That rat’s nest of long, weedy, spindly, stringy hair? G-g-g-gone, baby. Gone.

I must weigh five pounds less.

###

Annoyed a journo pal by observing that the reason why hipster socialists get all the press is because all New York magazine’s reporters seem to do anymore is hang out on Twitter.

“They’re lazy SOBs,” I said (exercising caution with my pronouns!)

“We only do it because Twitter-centric thinking drives page views,” he huffed.

Is that really true?

Seems to me that’s one of those chicken/egg conundrums.

It’s certainly true that readers prefer short, punchy paragraphs.

But does that necessarily mean that journalists must function as bird parents feeding their offspring predigested Twitter pap?

My pal got so pissed off at me, he called me a Victorian.

I assume he was talking about syntax.

But since I'd refused his invitation a few years back when he and his partner told me the time had come for them to experiment with heterosexuality, who knows?

###

Also discovered what laid me low last week was some sort of norovirus that’s currently making the rounds of the quaint and scenic Hudson Valley. My recovery was actually quick as those things go. Several acquaintances ended up getting IV fluids in ERs.

And one of my clients talked me up to someone who's become a new client and who’s decided I’m gonna spend my weekend writing about (ugh) credit derivatives.

I can think of more boring things to write about than credit derivatives, but they all have to do with the specialized types of equipment one needs to drill for oil in the Sahara.

I should be grateful.

‘Cause God knows I need the money.