and on the subject of recognition in public

it always freaks me out. I wonder how long the person watched me before coming over. If they saw me pick at the pimple on my chin, scratch my nose, mutter a curse at the person who shoved me on BART.

Sod's Law says you always get recognized by strangers on your worst days. The days you slump in the corner of your local cafe in your rattiest clothes, hair uncombed, or slouch down the street, pissed-off and depressed over the latest rejected submission.

Another freakout is suddenly confronting my face on a poster. At those moments, perversely, I always hope that I *do* look my worst. So I resemble the poster image as little as possible, to minimize the risk of being spotted.