Thursday, September 15, 2011

chop chop

"Come back in six weeks to get trimmed up, want some product?" Not so much. Another six months, maybe. He probably cares more about my hair than I do, but that's how he gets paid.

But I come in and some people don't recognize me, someone mistakes me for someone else, I'm told it looks nice, and the big cheese says it looks "professional" which is perhaps a compliment but makes me feel like a stiff. I say the art nouveau has been rubbing off on me before realizing that most people don't know what I'm talking about, hence the recent love of floor-length skirts and dangly earrings and my inner goth kid trying to reconcile with the daily grind of adulthood.

Attempts at creative and academic writing diminished by a sore throat and a sore brain, assuaged by cups of tea and vending machine tylenol and strange and arty things on the Internet.

original angsta

I want to go to the House on the Rock really bad.

Pretty stuff...


Anonymous said...

try this beat, any idea who did the light socket image?

thatgirl said...

Ivan Bilibin... lovely book illustrations.

Anonymous said...

thanks thatwikigirlb
drumming saved my friend there's sanity so maybe his following his track will be of some aid to you too, beats not cookie crumbs but hey it's a punkrock update of the old fairytale, in the spirit of ivan and co.

Randal Graves said...

Sure he cares more, Flapper.

Baba Yaga likes shrooms.

thatgirl said...

I need to start wearing headbands with feathers and actual eyeliner.

Though I might be getting a little too old for this whole "flaming youth" thing.

Randal Graves said...

Not if you carry a torch.