what today looks like

playlists: leaving home, sun-streaming  

life-changing book arrived last week; life is changed. read it all in one small afternoon, clearly. take it with me everywhere, even the grocery store. even when i know i won't get to read it when i get there or on the way. a good hand drawn map is something really special. if someone draws you a map, it's important. either it's important or you're important, maybe both.

the warbyp frames have come and gone. none of them really fit my giant head? not even the darling green arthurs. i knew my head was larger than average, but i really underestimated this time. however! a new box of giant frames for my giant face will be here tomorrow, and i believe with my whole heart that at least one of them will be my soulframes.

when i was in high school i had a friend named rhonda and she'd get her hair cut in nashville, which seemed excessive to me (even though i got my hair cut in a neighboring town, because who could trust the hometown stylists? no one, apparently), especially considering that her hairstyle was a fairly simple bob with bangs. i tried to imagine how a hometown stylist could fuck up a bob, if given the chance. it seemed at least unlikely, if not nearly impossible. but she made the 2 hr drive every few weeks and even though i usually couldn't tell the difference, she was always super pleased with her cut. would you like to know the last time i felt super pleased with a haircut? i believe it was some time in 2008 — a short pixie situation. i'd said, "make me look like mia farrow in rosemary's baby," which is what everyone says because mia farrow was fucking gorgeous in rosemary's baby. mia farrow was gorgeous all the time, even now. the stylist tried to convince me that she knew what i was talking about, but i made her look at two other pictures i'd printed from the internet anyway (along with a screenshot of mia farrow in rosemary's baby). she'd said she understood but to really drive the point home, i'd said, "make it look like it's grown out from chemotherapy." followed quickly by, "my grandmother had breast cancer and chemo and i'll probably get it to, so this is not me making fun of people with cancer. i just — i mean let's face it, they look very waifish and fragile and the way the hair grows back is damn near perfect. i'd shave my head but i don't have the balls. when i get cancer i'll look back on this conversation and feel very smug."

the problem is that it's hard to look waifish when your head is enormous. but the cut was crazy cute and i loved it and then i was tired of it, because every day was the same thing. all the time. forever. you don't realize the level of entertainment and excitement that potential for bad hair days can bring. it's such a background experience.

so the hair i have now is just the worst. it's worse than when it was long and like straw. it's worse than when i had a perm in 2nd grade. i can't put it in a bun. i can't BRAID IT. i can't stand to look at it. but do i have a solution? a plan for future hair? no. maybe.

i'll come back to this.