coiffeur

My hair droops and dangles. i am like a make-shift broom that sweeps the detritus that gravity binds to the floor. Out of fear that ticks might make my hair their home, i visit a barber.

I make a silent entrance into the salon, but the buzz of electronic shavers shroud me with insecurity. i wet my pants. but my embarrassment shall not be disclosed.

I sit with sublime patientce for my haircut. 1 hour. no-one cuts my hair, i only get undesired stares and frowns from strangers who fashion the latest hairstyles. i am irate, my head boils with rage. still no barber comes to my desperate need. the air-conditioner overhead blows my draping locks.

I decide to make an exit. the buzz of the electronic shavers still resound through my mind.

some time later (i shall not disclose the time-frame), it dawns upon me that not only did i fail to make an appointment for a haircut, but i also failed to cut my hair. i am a loser. i pace around my living quarters, cleaning the dusty, dirty floor.

top songs for the week:
Californication: Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Let Down: Radiohead
Subterranean Homesick Alien: Radiohead
Luxurious: Gwen Stefani
Danger Zone: Gwen Stefani

copyrights: me