My hair is long and lustrous and bothering me.

Honestly, I don’t know how you girls and hippies and rock stars do it. After it’s long enough to put into a ponytail, sure, it’s no sweat. But my hair is not quite at that length, and as such, is always totally and completely in my face.

I have not cut my hair in about one year. Why not, you ask? Well, I have no good answer. I thought it might be fun to just let my hair grow. And it has been. But it’s been so long that now it’s almost like a crusade. Like, I’ve gone this far, maybe I should refuse to cut my hair until Bush is out of the White House, or until the war on drugs has been ended, or until God once again walks as a man. But dammit, the top of my head is just a big mass of stringy. So look for a haircut in the coming days.

Dogs will howl and angels will weep solemnly. You may notice. You may not.