1. I went to the 1964 New York Worlds Fair. Twice, once with my Boy Scout troop, once with my mom (Dad didn't travel well). Mom refused to go into the Spanish pavilion (even though her friends told her it was very good) because of Franco. Mom was a New Dealer, and hadn't forgotten the Abraham Lincoln Brigade.
2. I have written slash.
3. When I was 23, I was hypnotized by a New Age ascended master, who told me that I was the reincarnation of an Egyptian prince from the 19th dynasty. Since then, I sometimes wake from sleep drenched in sweat, fearful of the wily and unscrupulous Hittites plotting to invade and enslave my kingdom. Equally troubling, I am beset with sensual dreams of ivory-limbed Hittite maidens, which would shock my royal parents, if they knew.
4. I was born with two heads. When I was little, sometimes I'd wake up at night, far from my house, in the company of strange adults, not remembering how I got there. Some of the adults were black men, in elegant clothing. Some were white women, in plunging necklines. Some were Air Force generals, in uniform. The most shabbily-dressed ones were sociologists, linguists, philosophers, and priests. All conversation between them and my extra head would stop, as soon as I woke up. The generals would have me driven home. My extra head would sulk.
In 1963 my extra head was discovered to have been writing letters to Soviet nuclear scientists; it had secretly taught itself Russian. It was also somehow implicated in the Bay of Pigs fiasco. A decision was made to remove it. I underwent an operation, which left me with a large, unsightly scar on my left shoulder. The head was spirited away. It has since been maintained in a vat of oxygenated fluid, in a bunker beneath an Air Force base in northern Virginia.
After this operation, other children made fun of me on account of the large scar it left. They had never made fun of my extra head, possibly because children who did were sometimes attacked at night by something invisible which burrowed into their bodies and consumed their pineal and adrenal glands. Now that my other head was gone, they felt free to torment me for my deformity. This made me somewhat bitter, and darkened my later childhood and adolescence, until I discovered disco.
I have heard rumors that in later years my extra head was instrumental in the development of New Coke and Comic Sans.
I have never been down to Virginia to visit it, and post-9/11, I'm not even sure I could get the necessary security clearance. We still exchange Christmas cards and occasional e-mail, though usually my extra head's writings are heavily redacted by military censors.
In recent years the head has sounded depressed, and has become slightly erratic. I suspect, as it edges into late middle-age, it regrets that it never had the opportunity for a real home, or a family. It sometimes speaks of wishing for the kind of fellowship that one associates with churchgoers of the friendlier sort, although I don't think it even believes in God. It sometimes asks wistfully about my cats.
I believe it's lonely.
5. In the winter, I typically eat hot cereal for breakfast. Quaker rolled oats on workdays, and Irish steel-cut oats only on days off, because they just take to darned long to cook on days when I'm rushing to get to work.
I took that "Which SF Writer Are You" quiz. I discovered that a single question flip-flopped me between Ayn Rand and Ursula Le Guin. I question the test's robustness.
My themes of interest also don't coincide with any of the test's themes, so thpthpithhph!
meaning: convex, protrusion
お凸 == odeko == (noun) brow, forehead
A pictograph symbolizing convexity, cf. 凹, meaning concavity. Henshall suggests as a mnemonic: 'Box has bit protruding, making it convex.'