My Freak Flag Done Hit The Ground

Posted: November 26, 2008 in The Roper Files


“Told my uncle Gill/cut off my ponytail/don’t wanna wind up like Isadora Duncan/ it wouldn’t be a joke/ if it got caught in a spoke/ of a sportscar driven by a country bumpkin” – Eugene Chadbourne “Achey Rakey Heart”

Went out after work yesterday and did something the equivalent of diving headfirst into an icy cold lake. Got a long overdue haircut and furthermore had the cute Hispanic barber snip off my 18-year-old ponytail. Looking at the mass of dark hair on the floor underneath my chair I couldn’t help but think of Larry Fine pulling that mans toupee off with a violin bow in DISORDER IN THE COURT and upon seeing it on the end of the bow: “Nyaaaa….a tarantula!” If it wasn’t mixed up with the previous customers hair, I would have saved it for a funny fake-mustache photo.

I’ve heard people who have lost limbs talk about reaching over and expecting them to still be there and I’m kind of going through the same thing ( in a much, much less dramatic way of course) when I reach behind me and that foot-long mass of hair isn’t there anymore. Haven’t had my hair this short in almost twenty years; how’s that for stuck in a rut? 

I’ve got a tentative trip to Canada planned for in about a month and have been warned about the treatment long-hairs get in Customs. Wasn’t born yesterday; hair grows back. Wait a minute; is that a bald spot?

A-U-G-H !!!!!!!


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