Though my head would almost certainly not fit into a red or blue plastic cup, I found myself looking very much like a beer pong ball recently. Well, to be honest, I still call them ping pong balls, but according to most of my students and that tupperware sitting next to the cash register at the BP station, they are now beer pong balls. And, rather than being swatted back and forth across a green plywood table in the garage, apparently the object of the game these days is to cover the ball in lint and dunk it in someone else’s drink. The more drinks you dunk it in, the better your chances for “staying on” to play the next folks.
All sort of beside the point, really. Recently, you all have been asking, “What, then, is the point, Jackson?” Which I’ve taken to mean, “Why are we here?” Or “Is there a meaning to all this?” Or “Tell me about the sea, Jackson?” The last of which, I feel I should mention, is not a question, despite the question mark. Maybe you already knew that. So, what is the point?
The point is: I got a haircut. Let me rephrase: I shaved my head. Not to the scalp exactly, but pretty short. In fact, this is what I used to look like:
This is what I look like now:
Well, a little what I look like.
The boys came home from rock climbing shortly after my “haircut.” Zac said, “Whoa, when your hair’s that short, your beard looks enormous.” Sam said, “You have a beard?”
I bumped into Naomi a short time later, and she asked, “Did you lose a bet or something?”
I asked Blaisey for her honest opinion (an honest question posed in the form of a statement (an honest question with a certain indication that a juice box might accompany the correct answer)): “My haircut looks good, right?”
Blaisey said, “Yes. Good. A little weird . . . but you look really cute in that shirt.”
She got the juice box. But, let’s face it, who wouldn’t look cute in this shirt! The one on the left.
Anyway, I've been busy for a spell, you know, whether other things, but I'm back now, or at least that's what I'd have you believe.
Also, in the off chance that it's not obvious, Desi says hi.
All sort of beside the point, really. Recently, you all have been asking, “What, then, is the point, Jackson?” Which I’ve taken to mean, “Why are we here?” Or “Is there a meaning to all this?” Or “Tell me about the sea, Jackson?” The last of which, I feel I should mention, is not a question, despite the question mark. Maybe you already knew that. So, what is the point?
The point is: I got a haircut. Let me rephrase: I shaved my head. Not to the scalp exactly, but pretty short. In fact, this is what I used to look like:
This is what I look like now:
Well, a little what I look like.
The boys came home from rock climbing shortly after my “haircut.” Zac said, “Whoa, when your hair’s that short, your beard looks enormous.” Sam said, “You have a beard?”
I bumped into Naomi a short time later, and she asked, “Did you lose a bet or something?”
I asked Blaisey for her honest opinion (an honest question posed in the form of a statement (an honest question with a certain indication that a juice box might accompany the correct answer)): “My haircut looks good, right?”
Blaisey said, “Yes. Good. A little weird . . . but you look really cute in that shirt.”
She got the juice box. But, let’s face it, who wouldn’t look cute in this shirt! The one on the left.
Anyway, I've been busy for a spell, you know, whether other things, but I'm back now, or at least that's what I'd have you believe.
Also, in the off chance that it's not obvious, Desi says hi.
Got mine cut back in December. A present from my aging mother.
ReplyDelete