Duncan's Blog

There are many identities that a body carries along the journey of life. I speak for myself about my own. Sometimes an identity can be represented by a symbol and the person who views it can decide whether this individual is friend or foe. Some that I have worn? A botonee cross, a Star of David, a pentagram, a Celtic knot, a triquetra, a lambda (to name a few). Some of these choices were completely contrived as seemingly attractive jewelry at the time. Others represented some part of me or my life or my spirit that was still resonating within.
I do believe in the power of DNA and I am certain that each of us has someone in our biological lineage with whom we can feel a sense of connection or (literally) kinship. Of course, my notion will one day be debunked as hokum when science lets us know that DNA can now be artificially created with lab created long chains of monomer nucleotides that have never had any historic connection to something human.
Sometimes people love to make guesses or conjectures about who I am or where I am from based on what appears on my plate at lunch. The meal plan is usually based on small portions of things that have been individually wrapped and then (re-)heated together in the microwave. Sometimes (or most times) the major portion of the plate is something that is homemade such as a vegetarian loaf, beans and grain, or a meat and pasta dish. Said fare may also have either fresh or canned vegetables. And often the canned vegetables are things that I just didn't feel like making from scratch (usually greens from Allens). No, I wasn't a vegetarian or a vegan. I wasn't a health food fanatic. I wasn't publishing or promoting healthier living or lifestyle choices based on the food assortment that landed on my plate. I was just doing cooking for the week and mixing and matching the big batches that I came up with.
These days I wear nothing. Don't even need a watch because I can find an analog clock with sweep hand on my cell phone. I don't have a ring or chain that bonds me to another person. The single piercing in my left lobe seldom has anything in it.
My hair style doesn't change much over the years. I let it grow for 3-4 years and then I cut it to an inch. Facial hair is adjusted every 7-10 days. My clothing is neither vintage nor in vogue. I wear scrubs half the day and jeans on weekends. When at home inside I generally have on a cotton robe.
I have no addictions. I drink store brand coffee and usually keep small bags of loose tea that have been drawn up and put in tiny paper sacks by a local tea master. I only buy made in the USA soaps (and toothpaste) and prefer to use cotton against my skin.
I'm just an American hippie... who opts to have short hair these days.

I had some airline credit on Southwest Airlines so I decided to buy myself a one-day round-trip ticket to San Francisco. I went walking and I used my Clipper Card to ride the MUNI bus and light rail vehicles as well as Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART).
I did do quite a bit of walking. San Francisco is one of my favorite cities in the United States and I love getting lost there. I seldom feel the need to look at a map unless I am in completely uncharted territory. That notwithstanding, I can generally feel my way around.
I donated plasma and red cells at Vitalent (Irwin Memorial Blood Bank) not far from the Haight. I went to the Castro and did some early xMas shopping at Cliff's Variety Cliffs' Hardware Store. While there (on Castro Street) I grabbed a slice of pizza Home | Marcello's Pizza at Marcello's. They had a ready-made Hawaiian ½-pie that was accompanied by a can of squirt (grapefruit soda). Grapefruit a forbidden food in my diet for reasons I will not disclose.
From there I walked to Chinatown with the goal of getting to the Lucky Creation Vegetarian Restaurant on Washington Street. The Lucky Creation Vegetarian Restaurant
I used to live there and before deciding to make it my new-found home, I spent a few summers there in an SRO (single-room occupancy) hotel in the Tenderloin. The neighborhood was (and still is) a bit rough around the edges, but it was a very inexpensive place to rest my head. Hardest part of life there was keeping control of the roach population. Hoy Hoy trap-a-roach was a popular method back then. Or baking soda. I had a rather effective Electrolux that I would use to suck them up. Of course, i would have to make sure the bottom of the hose was secured with rags so they couldn't crawl out. Ah, death by vacuum bag dust inhalation.
I don't speak much of that era. I lived in the Winton Hotel for a year and met quite a number of characters. None of them owned a phone (pre-cell phone era) and they used a pay phone in the lobby if need arose. I lost touch with most everyone I had contact with there. I think no one was looking to make friendships in that place.
I had a few other places of residence along the way; a studio on the 5th floor at the Frontenac (with walls as thin as toilet paper). A single room further up Hyde Street (1531) on the cable car line (between Jackson and Pacific). It was a grand neighborhood (Nob Hill) and easy walking to Chinatown or a little more adventurous walk towards Pacific Heights. Russian Hill and Fisherman's Wharf were also easily within reach.
Rents are out of sight these days. I dream of winning the lottery and buying something there. I also dream of dual citizenship in another undisclosed country after I change my name and become Mr Anonymous.
I love being on my own while doing urban adventures. I blame no one for my choices and I explain to no one why I have done what I do.

verb (used with object), trans·fig·ured, trans·fig·ur·ing.
to change in outward form or appearance; transform.
to change so as to glorify or exalt.

I feel as if I have metamorphosed by way of a transfiguring coif. What does this mean? I had my hair lopped off. Every few years I meet up with a wigmaker friend of mine. I promise her dinner at a Turkish restaurant in Beverly Hills for shearing my scalp. She gathers the locks in small bundles and ties them together with string. She promises to remove the cuticle and to treat it with a chemical before weaving or ventilating it into a mesh for a wig.
I've been running my hand along the occiput and still feel the loss of a pony tail that was there but a few hours ago. I'm still a hippie. I still have my values of love and freedom, kindness to animals, organic product consumption, and energy conservation. I just do it now with less hair.
Oh well, it's what I had asked for.

Today i bought an airline ticket using a coupon I had received when I was voluntarily bumped from a flight. Even though I had more than enough to cover the cost of the base fare, I was still charged for taxes and fees. It was just under $75. So, I thought, what are these fees for?

( The website indicates it was as of 2017 ... Airport Taxes and Fees Update )

Here goes :

U.S. Transportation Tax - 7.5% beginning 10/l/99 until further notice

U.S. 09/11 Security Fee - Up to $5.00 - charged per one-way trip to fund screeners, equipment, and other costs of the Transportation Security Administration

U.S. Flight Segment Tax - $3.00 - Domestic passenger tax that applies to journeys that begin and end in the U.S. or the 225 mile buffer that extends into Canada or Mexico.

U.S. Passenger Facility Charge - Up to $4.50 -charged by an airport for airport improvements. Up to four PSCs can apply to each ticketed journey and a maximum of two PFCs per each one-way trip.

Regency Fall Front Trousers - Khaki

I don't generally wear vintage clothing or period styles, but today I was looking for an example of fall-front trousers and I stumbled upon this collection.

Men certainly knew how to dress to greet the world back in the day. I live in a uniform for > 10 hours of the day.