A Very Bad Haircut

Years ago, when Wes and I were dating, I somehow got it into my head that I knew how to cut hair. I had seen it done many times and it looked easy enough. Just use a comb and snip snip snip, right? I offered to cut Wes’ hair and he agreed. I sat him down and draped a towel around his neck. I used a spray bottle to wet his hair down.

I offered to cut Wes’ hair and he agreed. I sat him down and draped a towel around his neck. I used a spray bottle to wet his hair down. And then it was snip. Well, it was really: snip snip snip snip snip snip snip snip snip snip.

Somewhere in the middle of this “haircut,” it occurred to me that I did not actually know how to cut hair. I felt a mixture of dread and panic. Things didn’t seem right, but I kept going hoping it would work out.

When it was all over, I handed Wes a little mirror. I still remember his gasp. “I look like a prisoner of war,” he said.

A couple of weeks ago, I gave my old website a really bad haircut. So bad, in fact, that I pretty much had to shave it all off and start over.

So here we are. Welcome to my new website!

Some of you know that I had been using my old site as a source of external accountability for my discipline of writing daily. Though the website was dark, I managed to keep up the streak. Number of consecutive days writing: 51.

And since technology has given me such a headache of late, I’m including a photo I took of a dear friend, a man who is the embodiment of the analog life. He does not own or use a computer, car, or mobile phone. He travels to museums to look at art in person. He reads actual newspapers and magazines. Imagine that.