birdies birdies everywhere, but not a drop to drink
2002-08-23 - 3:22 p.m.
Hello my adoring adoring fans!
My hair is now very very short. It curls sweetly just under my chin. It feels so free and wonderful!
I think people have a strange relationship to hair. Almost every man I know prefers his girlfriend's hair to be long. Women tend to cut their hair when they've ended a relationship, I've heard. Cutting my hair let me acheive closure on the wedding stress. On the way back (from my haircut) I started thinking about how you couldn't put up your hair unless you were a certain age (old enough to bear chillun) in the old days, and in the older days only once you were married. In Orthodox Judaism (at least the really strict kind) a woman has to cut off her hair and and cover her head (with a wig if she likes) once she's married so her hair doesn't sexually distract men. In "Girl With a Pear Earring" (great book) the protagonist has sex with a boy after the man she secretly loves accidently sees her with her hat off and sees all her hair. He stares at her, and she feels very violated. It's as if that was the point where she lost her virginity, not when she actually had sex that night. Victorians had huge hangups about hair--there was an urban legend that when Lizie Siddal's body was exhumed (to get at her husband's bad poetry) her hair had grown so much that it overflowed when the coffin was opened.
There ends my crazy hair monologue. I like hair. If anyone knows a good book about the history of the human fascination with hair, please do reccommend it to me.
Also, I'm still on the lookout for good drinks made with rum. Please list them in the guest book if you know any, you alkie freaks!
Also also, L. pointed out that he is neither Catholic nor Jewish. True. Neither is CK, nor RF, nor S.J. But I think the rest of my friends are. So I hold true to what I said.
ALSO! I'm one wild and crazy girl! Tonight we're going to the Apple store at 10:40 so R can get a new operating system (maybe) and a free t-shirt. I'll let you know how it goes.
"He rode over Connecticut/ In a glass coach./ Once, a fear pierced him,/ In that he mistook/ The shadow of his equipage/ For blackbirds."
I like birdies, but only in the abstract metaphorical sense. I hate the actual things and if I owned one, I would swiftly feed it to the cat or large snake I would acquire for the task. But if I had an otter, I would love it and feed it and play silly games with it ALL DAY LONG!
If you've read this whole journal entry, go buy your crazy self a drink on me, cause it was RANDOM AS A FLOCK OF BLACKBIRDS!
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