I'm oddly nonplussed about my birthday tomorrow. Maybe going to dinner with Rachel in Hopewell. That would be enough, but may hook up with Philly cousins Sunday.
"Hooking Up" is the title of a book of essays by Tom Wolfe. The first time I heard it was at Boston College with friends. I couldn't figure out what it meant. Sex? Making Out? Just meeting someone? I thought the term was stupid in its inexactitude, but now it's become part of the common lexicon.
The one thing that's hard to believe is that guys now text girls messages like "want to come over and hang out?" at 3 am on a Saturday night. What do girls think they mean; come over and watch old movies and eat popcorn? It's all part of the routinization and dullification of sex, the lucky little bastards.
No deep thoughts tonight. I'm working on a writing project I'll describe if it pans out. Otherwise, just thought I'd note that I'm not dead yet.
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1 comment:
I'm glad you're not dead yet. Happy Birthday, you big sissy!
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