(no subject)
Here we are again: Saturday night, and I find myself with an unexpected mustache just months after I swore I'd never try facial hair until I was really a man. Isn't it funny how things happen to our bodies without our knowledge or consent? I took a shower thinking, when I get out I'm going to shave; I shaved thinking, it'll be nice to be clean again. And then I thought of dad and that picture in the entranceway of the Lorna house, him and mom in their sweaters and dad with his mustache. And I was looking at my chin and thinking, dad's chin. And looking at the picture in my head thinking, he was probably almost twenty-four. My age in a couple weeks. And thinking, his mustache. And seeing it there on my face. Thinking, I should go as my dad for Halloween. Thinking that as I put on Old Spice. Would he have worn a costume to a party? Thinking no, dad wouldn't have gone. He would've decorated the house and stayed home to hand out candy. So going as my dad for Halloween means staying home. I guess it doesn't matter how many mustaches I grow. I'm going out tonight and I'm going out on Halloween and I'm not married and I don't have a home and my dad's mustache, I'll admit it, doesn't grow as thick on my face.