Trail of Tresses

I don't know that I've ever been a particularly popular person. My quiet ways and my discomfort around most people and larger groups of people probably takes care of that. I figure I'm one destined to fade into the background and remain there.

Lately, however, at church, I have become popular among the two- to ten-year-old set, and this by-and-large seems all right. Because I'll likely never have children of my own, unless by some chance I ever manage to find someone who I would want to marry who would also want to marry me, hanging out with the kids once a week or so at church is a nice break, from the pressures of adult conversation for me and, for the parents, from having to entertain or watch over their children (not that I'm particularly good at the latter--I tend to get right on into trouble with the kids).

I'm assured, however, that I can/will get married by one of my young cohorts. Oddly, however, the girl (age ten) didn't volunteer to marry me; instead, she volunteered her two-year-old sister. Alas, I will have to wait a long time. Something tells me that the youngest girl wouldn't like being volunteered for a relationship like this, if she only knew.

A few years earlier, an older teen had volunteered his back-then barely teenage sister as a good possibility for dating. I, of course, didn't pursue this, and while the girl had always been quite nice to me when younger, as she's gotten older and prettier, she's found herself surrounded by a lot of guys her own age and barely notices me at all anymore, much as any adult.

What strikes me as odd in all these situations is how a sibling volunteers another one for marriage to me. I don't know what it means, and I don't know that I want to find out. It's just vaguely humorous.

What does any of this have to do with hair? That I don't know either.

Beards Are In

Beards are in. This is what became evident yesterday as I watched six--that's right--six bands play in the afternoon and evening. It's the longest concert I've been to. Certainly, there are music festivals here in town, but I rarely stay for more than a couple of bands. Yesterday, I stayed for the whole thing, mainly because three of the six bands are some of my favorites in town.

The concert occurred at a barn up on Polaski Street owned by the artist Stan Mullins (quite a bit of artwork was featured on the walls as well, which made for interesting viewing). Essentially, the show was a party for Venice Is Sinking, which was celebrating its third anniversary.

Of the five members in Venice Is Sinking, three had beards. Taking into account that Carolyn the violinist wouldn't likely grow a beard, that leaves beards on three of four. Most other bands were much the same, though I'd have a hard time tallying up exact totals for all of them, as my mind won't recall the faces of every band member in the other groups. And the trend continued into the audience, where male with beards probably made up half the audience.

What's the deal? It's winter, I suppose, and a beard does help a bit. Beyond that, I don't know. Am I tempted to grow back my own? Sort of. I liked the look, but not everyone else did (most who made a comment said something positive, but a few said something positive only after I got rid of the thing). But I hated all the other hassles--washing the beard, getting food it in, and the inevitable habit of playing with it; beyond that, I look older with it, and I don't particularly want help with that!

All Equal under a Cap

This thought comes to me after a cold, cold weekend: We're all equal when under a cap. Girls with long hair, guys with luscious pompadours, bald guys, balding women. No one can tell which is which based on the cap alone. I should be cheering winter on.

The Natural Life of a Spark Plug

Saturday night I went to see my friend Andy's band play; opening for him was a band that I'd heard about but had never heard--Mandy Jane and the Jaws of Life. Not being a country music fan, I didn't pay much attention to the praise heaped on this duo. But I've been missing out. It wasn't so much that the performance itself was amazing--the band seemed rather disorganized--but that the singing was so incredible. What a voice! It reminded me of a spark plug, how it can stir things up and make a whole car go, and Mandy Jane's voice stirred up each song and made it go. The country wasn't too much to put up with either; I find myself drawn more and more to country-tinged rock, and so maybe old country (mainly what was played) isn't so bad, especially if it has a comedic twist, as these songs did.

As for hair, because that's the real reason to stick anything on here, Mandy and Ken (or Kevin?), her partner, both had light hair, her's a lighter brighter blonde than his. He was balding--hair was short--and had a beard. Her hair was in a bob, or at least what I think of as a bob. On stage, the chemistry between them was palpable.

But really, it was all about the voices, hers and his occasional beat box.