Because of a few lines half-remembered from Robert Bly's Iron John, I feel like the longer my hair goes uncut (almost eight weeks here), the more it holds the mania of prior weeks. You can't call my hair "long" by any definition, but when it looks like this, I can look like Doc Brown crossed with Ted Kaczynski, which doesn't help my mental state. When I eventually get to the barber (which I did last night), it feels like I've shed twenty pounds along with the mental anguish of summer's end.
Now my hair is cut and I can put the worst of the last six weeks behind me. Really!
No comments:
Post a Comment