2303112
Saturday February 04th 2012, 9:04 pmIt starts with an almost startling snap, as it surges with sudden energy. Sounding like a constant annoying giant bee buzz buzz buzzing, it runs around my head. Getting very warm in my hands, it can be awkward to hold. The shape like some archaic alien electric tool of polished steel and black molded plastic with numerous gnashing little teeth. In some ways the noise sounds dangerous to my ears. And depending how one was to use this device, I’m sure it could kill. It shears very prudently. Thick layers fall to the ground like discarded feathers of a molting bird. I’ve done this simple thing for myself for a lot of years now. It always feels so refreshing afterward. I should’ve been doing this fine close preening when I was a fraidy cat misfit teenage boy. You see, my locks grow in such mass tightly curled volume, that they are untamable. I always felt quite clownish because of it, torture for a young boy of such meager stature, and certainly was fodder for peer ridicule. I was such a little pipsqueak with this living morass of uncontrollable fluff, I felt like a gawky walking boney toothpick with a giant bristle ball for a head. I felt like a cartoon. In my 20’s I used to wear a long style, and just for it to look somewhat normal I had to trim all of the under layers, so just the top would be grown out to a long length. But even then it felt wrong and awkward on me. I was always struggling with it, to define it. In retrospect, that struggle clearly was metaphor for trying to define myself. Then one day, I chopped it all off, the sensation was lifting. In buzzing it away, I felt free. I discovered that I liked myself better now that it was gone, no longer encumbered by my worries over my mopped visage. The slate was clean, the definition let loose. These days I never let it get more than and inch or so grown, but even with that, it feels like this heat compression thatch on my scalp. Like my skin can’t breathe. I can’t stand it. So when I start up the engine of my own little shearing machine, I know I’m only minutes from feeling human again, like myself again. Its fascinating to me that such a simple task can have such a profound perspective to feelings from the past.
Shaving My Head
February 4th 2012
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