I used to have my hair cut at Joe's, cattycorner from my house, until the bother of having to schedule an appointment clashed with my Myers-Briggs P style and wandered up the street to Louie's where Carlos just takes you as you walk in, and on Monday, too.
Joe is from Philly, and aside from being former International Mr. Leather and a conoisseur of sexual kink, he is a chatty, upbeat --well, kinda manic actually-- and very outgoing guy (with terrific shoulders). One day when it was hot, at least hot for San Francisco, he confessed that after moving here several years ago, he lost his capacity to enjoy really warm weather. Anything over 80 degrees knocks him out. "I have become," he lamented, "a West Coast pussy boy".
Well, that makes two of us. I moved here 16 years ago and I find the temperateness much to my liking. Spring and fall is all we have, but for a few days each summer, we have some actual summer. I have to turn the fan on. And I wilt.
Today it is just 82. But I feel like the picture above. That, too, could be a Malesoul image.
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