(no subject)
Delightful. Air is marvelous: even indoors, the currents are like kisses, all over my head.
Yes, I've buzzed my head. Can't quite say "shaved" because there is still a full eighth of an inch all around my rather nicely shaped head. There's a scar from some single-digit year, the leavings of a staplegun slamming into my head from high above.
I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I couldn't stand the hair-in-my eyes thing a moment longer. Hair doesn't belong in eyes. It feels much, much better. Not a ton lighter, like chopping off the long hair, but . . . fresher. And definitely more connected with all the air around me.
I'm amused by the look, too. I think I look like a pale-skinned devout Buddhist. Especially with my glasses on.
In accordance with this (maybe), I've been immersed deep in my thoughts all day long. Contemplating my navel and all that. My curiousity is growing, but I'm still thinking about all the angles. Tiny things, running in all directions. Tinkling of a dance. And something else, tugging. The delusions are still raining down, piles of feathers on my feet. I know: there's only one way to fly.
Yes, I've buzzed my head. Can't quite say "shaved" because there is still a full eighth of an inch all around my rather nicely shaped head. There's a scar from some single-digit year, the leavings of a staplegun slamming into my head from high above.
I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I couldn't stand the hair-in-my eyes thing a moment longer. Hair doesn't belong in eyes. It feels much, much better. Not a ton lighter, like chopping off the long hair, but . . . fresher. And definitely more connected with all the air around me.
I'm amused by the look, too. I think I look like a pale-skinned devout Buddhist. Especially with my glasses on.
In accordance with this (maybe), I've been immersed deep in my thoughts all day long. Contemplating my navel and all that. My curiousity is growing, but I'm still thinking about all the angles. Tiny things, running in all directions. Tinkling of a dance. And something else, tugging. The delusions are still raining down, piles of feathers on my feet. I know: there's only one way to fly.