March 11, 2019:
One year later the shirt is purple, the glasses are wire-frame, the hair although still chestnut is less like Mr. Spock's and more like Mrs. Spock's, Eva Braun the Nazi Comb Lady has gotten to him in the line, he radiates defeat and he's tripping balls. He looks disoriented, caught off-guard at school on photo day when he should have been in the canyon with a joint in one hand and a girl in the other. Or at least the joint.
The depression is unavoidable. Last year his eyes were relatively focused; now they're elsewhere. He's lost weight, he looks very frail, and very girlish.
There'll be another picture in three years ish, he'll be physically larger but the depression will be even more serious, he'll be hiding behind his very long hair and again will be high on acid.
I conclude from this story that timely intervention by the Big Brothers of America has failed to save either his braincells or his haircut.