that awkward teenage phase

it's that time again:

let the hair grow long, trim it, or shave it off? so many possibilities, so little time. right now, my 'do' is in what i call 'that awkward teenage phase' of not short, not long but lumpy.

i have thick, black curly hair and i have never found anyone that knows just how to cut it. i'm not even happy when i take my barber clippers to the mop on top of my oversized noggin. barbers all leave me looking like a 'homeboy'.

the state of my peluca (look it up) often indicates my general mental state, so do be careful when encountering the 'i haven't combed this blob in 3 years' mo. he hasn't been around since he started teaching preschool 5 years back and decided to re-introduce the 'shave it all off and feel like curly joe besser but be shadowed by police squad cars after dark' mo.

over the years my hair has gone from one crisis mode to another.

as a helpless kid, my mother would put so much brilliantine in my hair that for the year my family spent in costa rica when i was 7, the other schoolmates would marvel at just how hot my head would get in the warm tropical sun during our breaks outside.

in junior high i was a 300 lb tub that didn't cut his hair for 4 years and everyone thought i was a girl (the aviator glasses didn't help).

by high school a combination of speed, sex and punk rock caused my hair to be the shortest for a boy in school, and my girlfriend cut 2 odd grooves at my right hairline, thus giving me an extra mutant sideburn. came in handy when i played a crazy sewer dweller in a school play.

by the time i was 15 i was pretty much on my own, and used to go to this barber across the street from this early 'hipster' boutique in santa monica, california (nana's) and insist to the punk rock hating lady barber that she give me hopey's haircut from 'love and rockets'-the comic.

that 'short back and sides' with the psycho fringe on top has been the general standard that my fro has maintained, with the above mentioned 'rasta-mo' that just got plain ugly or the last time i shaved it to fuzz-the night before the last set of riots broke out in LA...talk about suspicious policemen.

so here i am.

if i go with long, i end up looking like 'sayid' on lost-hair only.

short, the cops look all funny at me.

and now: that awkward teenage phase....

kill thing pappy

the above was very briefly used as a nickname for by the late mr. jac zinder, and it is the title of a particularly odd 50's calypso tune.

never really could figure out the lyrics...

"kill thing pappy-is the way they go
kill thing pappy-win or lose"

is the chorus, i believe...can't do a search on the web because i'm not even sure of the title nor the artist (archie thomas and his rhythm makers?) , and the beat up old label-less 78 is history now...

i find myself having incredibly vivid memory replays based on music, and when i heard this song in the cassette player of my daughter's mother's car the other day i was whisked away to an evening at the old 'dance club' that jac and i co-hosted (he did most of the work, i spun musics).

as i get older i seem to re-connect more and more to memories via my music collection.

and having access to the only cassette player in the family for a month has helped me to appreciate my old mix-tapes (that's another entry)...

this memory was a fun one, and when i played that song it was one of those weird nights where everyone at the venue was on the same wavelength and they all danced.

sometimes a song'll do that sort of thing.

and that's why jac thought that 'kill thing pappy' would make a good 'handle' for me.

i'd almost forgotten.

of course, mentioning the title/name disturbs my daughter, but someday she'll recall fondly her dad and his weird musical interludes.

maybe with a song...

the heart grows fonder

When two people love each other, they come together - WHAM - like two taxis on Broadway.

--Stella (Thelma Ritter), from "Rear Window"

with me, it felt more like getting hit by a truck and walking away laughing.

this might help explain to you just where my head has been at these last few postless weeks.

life is strange, love is incomprehensible, and just where these primordial feelings come from is beyond me, but when inflicted with this state the whole world becomes transformed.

i find myself smiling at chirping birds and stopping to watch the sun set behind a smoggy haze.
i sit and tussle my daughter's hair and listen more attentively and she relates her day. i'm smiling much of the time. i go over to my folks house for dinner just to spend time with them. my sense of sadness and isolation does not feel quite so pronounced.

she sent me a 'buddha box' and calls me just as i finish dialing her phone.

complete and total honesty, and still she calls me back.

the long distance thing is tough (400 miles) but we both made the joke about 'absinthe makes the heart grow fonder'... we'll figure it out. it's only a 6 hour drive.

i've only told a few folks about this new wonderful woman in my life, so this sort of serves as my announcement.

we are in each other's thoughts constantly, and my work has suffered for it.

but i'm happy. giddy. 16 year old crazy love.

besides my little girl in my life, i've found little reason to see the world in a positive light this past year, but then 'whoosh' comes the truck and i'm spinning. it's a great feeling.

talk to you soon.