Tuesday 31 August 2004

Pic of the day: Yes, there's still hair. But all things that have form are subject to change.

Haircut day

It's been quite a while since last. The wind continued to grab my hair and displace it in embarassing ways. It's not like I had long, flowing hair or anything - that is just so feminine, in my opinion - but even so. Then again, there's been a lot of wind this summer.

Anyway, I cut my hair. It's not a big deal, emotionally or financially. But's the only noteworthy event of the day. So hair we go.

I don't actually like to have my hair very short either. Not transparent short, I mean, I don't want my hair to be just stubble or fuzz. I want it cover my head, just not hang down. I particularly like it when I have washed it and brushed it so it is fluffy, each single hair free and having its own personal space. We should all be free and have our personal space. But unless I spend time on maintenance, fat will seep in and suddenly large swathes of hair will all move in the same direction like criminal gangs or high school students.

Heralding a haircut is a state of general rebellion of the hair. Parts of it will stick out in weird directions and resist all attempts to dissuade them. I can comb, I can brush, I can apply water but the tufts of hair will return to their rebellious state. I suppose oils and stuff like that might help. When I was a kid, and that's 30-40 years ago, people used to have some kind of fatty gel in their hair. Ewww. As if it isn't phat enuff already. So, I do what any dictator would have done: I cut the rebellious strands down to size.

These days this is the only consideration. In the past it happened that a certain young woman would insist that I cut my hair, even at an inconvenient time. But now only I keep an eye on me.