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....
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....
posted by mo figuls at 12:03 PM
2 Comments:
"Peluca" is, as you probably know, a cognate of the word "peruke," which are those little funny wigs that judges in England wear.
I like your hair the way it is.
Mo!!
Rev MO!! Wheeeeeeeeeee!
Hey guy, it's Scott here, checkin' in to let you know that I personally admire your radical do. It was danged amazing seeing you at Marcel's doll how opening and reconnecting with you after far too long.
On the topic of hair, I just got mine shorn shorter than a 1940's era private dick on a cheap divorce case. When you last saw me I was still the Spaniel Boy (or Spaniel Man these days... I suppose I must now own up to the years of "experience").
I'll be around your blog, as a semi-regular. I might even be inspired to update my old journal, as it has been awhile for me and I now do miss it...
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