I took my stash of vinyl downstairs to rearrange them in the spot where the sun really warmed up the floor. I checked my reflection in the ceiling mirror once again. Yesterday, I went out to the bars on the strip and no one recognized me. Nobody. I sat there and waited and realized it was probably my neatly sculpted facial hair. Maybe I really did look like a hipster, as my twenty-one year old model girlfriend pointed out the other night.
|Marilyn Bieber By Sherry Wood|