Dirty Fingernails
I rode over to GRUB garden #5 tonight to do a little evening weeding; much easier to work in the setting sun. I pulled weeds for maybe two hours as the shadows around me crept across the yard, the yearning shade. Pulling sprouts of grass while listening to Yo La Tengo’s The Sounds of The Sounds of Science is a nice thing to do. Cool damp soil, sitting in the shade, collecting worms, soil caked onto my shoes. The broccoli is coming in nicely, and there are ladybugs abound to combat the aphids. I wrote in the GRUB log about what I did and how the garden was looking, beginning with “Dear Dirt Diary…” That’s my little land.
I cut my hair tonight, but it sounds more dramatic if I say I cut off all my hair. I did have a lot, and now I have very little. I’ve heard it makes me “look five years younger” and is “hell of cool”. Neato. I attempted the shaved head + “beard” + “mustache” as my brother recommended, but it didn’t really work. Clean shaven all around, that’s the ticket. Maybe someone will hire me now that I don’t look like a damn California hippie anymore. I’ll admit I’m not sure why, but I really do like being able to see the shape of my skull. Maybe it’s because that’s where my brain is, that’s the shape of thinking, that’s where all my heat escapes, that’s where a car would kill me, that’s where I smacked into a table when I was a little boy, that’s where my hair was.
A shower washed off all the dirt and all the hair.