i absolutely do not have the will nor do i have the mental fortitude to write anything of legible value and interest tonight (this morning), so i don't know why i am... usually i can start writing and just come up with crap without stopping, but tonight i feel dumber than usual and i'm sure that my lame ass will not come up with a damn thing.

and i don't care.

i want to get my hair cut tomorrow, since work has been called off for the day and i have nothing better to do. sounds like a normal, everyday plan, yes?

things are never that easy.

usually i cut my own hair, but i've been neglecting my head for awhile now and when i shaved yesterday for the first time in...

weeks?

days?

i dont know. at any rate, my bare face made me realize by pure contrast that my hair has become irreparably unruly. when my hair grows past an inch long, i begin to get houdini-head.

houdini-head.

it stays straight on top, while the sides strike out on their own and enter into an unhoy realm of reckless curlicues and kinky ratsnests.

anything but a pretty sight.

and there is nothing i can do to curb this madness.

nothing.

so, i figure that i want to have my hair actually cut. whether or not i do it tomorrow is not really the point. the point is the recurring figure who steps into and subsequently out of my life at varying intervals along the way.

"this is something i've been thinking about for awhile"

ugh. she cuts hair. she has cut my hair. she is the natural choice. this is an excessively difficult choice. i run the risk of "gushing" as it has recently been put to me.

that is not good.

i don't want this segment of my life to become a recurring theme, so i'm trying to repress it and write it off as not being a big deal. i absolutely should not go to her to get this procedure done, for more than the obvious reasons.

this is leading nowhere.

i knew i would not come up with a damn thing.

it's snowing again. just when i thought it was becoming safe for us skateboarding types, mother nature takes another hefty shitblob on my eager face. the seasons are just nazis in mother nature's SS. today was another day of the blitzkrieg. and the weekend is looking bad. and i still haven't solved my hair problem. tomorrow, scumbag will be the determining factor.

this is me stacking the deck in my favor.

he was a fellow admirer, just not one of the few and proud to have suffered a cardiac injury at her hands. the clumpy mass he calls hair on his head is in as bad shape as mine, and he will jump at the opportunity to spend some time pretending to be a phrenological case study.

this is me not making life easy for myself.

this is me pondering deleting this before posting it.

this is me wondering why i started to write in the first place.

and this is me ceasing to care.

lies. i can't even tell myself the truth.