Moving on.
There were two times in my life that I tried, really tried, to fit in with a conventional office job. It didn't work out either time. There are economic advantages to being a cog in a machine, but I just couldn't rationalize the moral ramifications. I couldn't do it.
In the late 80s I worked at DuPont, and I would get up very early in the morning on Sunday to have breakfast at Denny's. What was early Sunday for me was late Saturday for the Club Kids, Goths, and transvestites that were just winding down their long night, trickling in with dilated pupils and a satisfied weariness about them.
The unconventional dress never phased me. I felt more at ease there with them than I ever did by the short hair and gray suits that surrounded me most of my days. They were accepting and kind.
Those Sunday mornings are my only good memories of those days.
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