Tuesday, March 8, 2011


I shaved my head last night.  I got tired of having hair. Or, I should say that I got tired of having some hair.  It had grown long in spots and was beginning to bother me.  My wife encouraged me to get a haircut, so that was happening a few seconds later, to her mild surprise.  She says I look too mean when my head is shaved, like a convict.  The women elsewhere have universally loved it, saying I look 10 years younger and dangerous, though I don't see how that's quite possible, looking any younger, that is.  They flatter me, and I allow it.

I don't want to be 10 years younger.  I want 25 back, maybe even 30.  Just drop me off right after puberty around 1985 with a flash car and 20 thousand in cash...  Then come bring me back just as the summer ends.

No, that is not really what I want at all.  Though it would be nice to return and re-experience some things, but only knowing what I knew then, which wasn't much. I wouldn't change much about my life, though I would spend less time repeating myself, both in action and word.  It is the recurring theme in my life, etc.

Here is a picture of my face before I shaved it all off last night: