a friend of mine the other day sat across from me outside a neighborhood bar contemplating something i was sure he would blurt out soon enough.
the breeze was calmly warm and our skies were blue and you could see it in the face of people who walked by along the sidewalk wearing their favorite sunglasses and their best posture in the way that the arrival of summer makes people walk taller because they feel sexier.
he always gets this look on his face when he’s got a thought he knows is going to crack me up, as if he’s reached a conclusion that i’ll have no way to argue with about something completely pointless and trivial that he knows, without a doubt, i’ll immediately argue with him about.
it’s a blank, pondering sort of look with hints of a devilish grin, while he puts the finishing touches on his hilariously constructed argument or statement, and i usually ask him, ‘what?‘ even though i know there’s really no need because he’ll blurt it out either way.
“you remind me of someone, and i just figured out who it is.”
“it’s my buddy i used to work with, and it’s like you are him, twenty years younger.”
“okay. i’ve met him, like, twice, but i can see it in the way that i think he’s a pretty laid back guy.”
usually these conversation are far more combative, and ridiculous, and, frankly, entertaining. i was called travis so many times in college that i got used to telling people i grew up in sacremento.
i remind people of people.
“no…it’s that you guys both have this impulsiveness. it’ll take you however long to decide on something you want to do or have, and then you can’t really stop or drop it until you’ve done or gotten that thing.”
…hm. that’s true, i think.
i respond with, “i think i might shave my head this weekend.” this is what i’ve been sitting in the perfect summer breeze contemplating, having decided that the upside to life as my own barber outweighed the possible downsides to the first attempt*.
“THAT’S EXACTLY SOMETHING HE WOULD SAY. and you would both do it, too.”
i sat there feeling the contour of my scalp, unsure as to how accurate our mutual assessment of my pseudo-compulsiveness was in fact, silently concluding that we were probably right and simultaneously wondering if this conclusion was somehow influencing my intent to follow through on the haircut.
as soon as chalise arrived she complemented me on my hair, of all things**, and subsequently denied my request for an impromtu salon job***, the idea pushed to the backburner for reassessment later in the weekend.
during which it was never reassessed.
but now, as we cross into the second half of our first warmish summer week, and my hair crawls around my ears and becomes unmanagable, i return, mentally, to that moment when i did, in fact, think i would be cutting my own hair. i remembered feeling justified by the thought that a man who’s 28 years old should have done such a thing at least once.
but i’m undecided, and a bit nervous.
so i ask you for your thoughts.
*walking around looking ugly as sin, for instance.
**the nerve, seriously.
***see how i was already trying to get someone else to do it, thus securing a scapegoat? savvy…i know.