Hair

In an attempt to take the shape of my paintings, I decided a while ago to grow my hair out. I also more recently started drinking Jim Beam, thinking it will make me feel more like a rock star. But after a sloppy night during the Patriots’ loss to the Indianapolis Colts in the AFC Championship game, I decided to take a break. But I’m happy to say that I have rehabilitated my way back on it. It only took a few steps and I came crawling back. As for the hair, having life reflect art rather than art reflect life was my primary motivation, but it’s really just an excuse to grow my hair out. I’ve tried twice before; once in high school and once in college, but I never got past the first stage of awkwardness. This time I blew past that stage and am now on to the second stage of awkwardness, and approaching the stage where it can no longer be hidden underneath a hat. Growing out your hair is a serious commitment; you really need to accept the fact that you are going to look like an asshole for a year. The last time I got a haircut was in Berlin 7 months ago.