Peeling Hands and a Rushed Haircut at Bradbury

Pausing for the Football

Wednesday is now complete and as I have been having a partial break already, I will discontinue this entry until after the Football today. The time is now 3:50 p.m. where Football starts in ten minutes. This interlude will give me time to recuperate my stance and begin afresh on Thursday’s events. The points are not very thick for Thursday as I am trying to diminish a greater role but as usual, I will get caught up in description and before you know it, ten pages.

Such an analogy for the depiction in these pages would be to say that creating a good composition is similar to these pages within. Just like music, you have to be prepared on beck and whim for ideas to just pop up into your head. You never know when a good idea and thought changing philosophy will pop up and if you disregard such thoughts you will never receive the full benefit of your forsythe.

For this reason, I have chosen to keep a notepad with me when most I head out, so that each and every little thought can be noted. For this same reason, I have had the urges to both purchase a tape recorder so I could note my more important philosophy as well as the famous notion of acquiring a laptop computer. My thoughts are my life and my life dwells amongst my thoughts. Just as art imitates life, my thoughts pause the life I live into an acceptable medium of truth.

In music, ideas come to you when you sleep, when you shower and when you dream. It is up to you to collect those thoughts so that you may never let slip a possibility. Just as my poetry also served, whenever I felt the whim or beckoning line of prose, I turned such into graphical poetry without fail. Wherever I was, I would always find a way to write down my thought or run back home in the urge to complete the notion. This is the only way you can progress, learn and how later in life you can be prepared.

My Peeling Hands

Anyway, it is time now for me to head off but before I do one more word. Just having had a shower I’ve noticed a problem with my hands stemming back at least a week now. I remember being at work and noticing that my palms looked dry and looked as if they were fraying, peeling irregularly. Just as flaky skin from a scalp, my skin wasn’t looking healthy and I was curious as to how small or serious the problem would be. Just having had a shower now I’ve noticed the problem again with more complexity.

It’s to the point where half of the skin on my palms has peeled and if I were to run my nail down my palm I would collect the one or so millimeter high residue. Another problem I’ve had with the finger which had a pin through it is that it feels a touch awkward on occasion. When at times I do touch the point of that finger it feels like there is a fishing line running across the point of my finger, only a couple of centimeters into the finger.

When I move my finger it feels like the fishing line is being tightened, almost as if it was caught on a nerve. This serves no greater purpose than to annoy my intrigue but it is a curiosity to what is happening to these hands. Rationally, it could probably be the body wash that I use as I don’t put shampoo or conditioner in my hair (Haven’t been doing so for a year now as it serves my hair better resilience) and I stray from soap.

Well, whatever it is that’s making these hands fray is unbeknownst to me. Despite all these little tidbits of philosophy, I shall be off to watch Football now. Some good news before I head off, Brisbane won another win this week bringing the tally to eight straight wins. Shawn told me that it was a close game against Auckland who are coming last on the ladder but Auckland have found strength lately. Brisbane was leading by 2 points at the end of the day and then scored one more try in the last thirty seconds…

Planning a Haircut

Sunday 6:39 p.m.

Keith is becoming much more stagnant and malignant in his reputation as the years flow by. Just a few seconds ago Jett walked out of my door, leaving behind a vast amount of information for me to dwell upon as well as obtaining information from me with his deceptive ways. First things first, I shall decide to explain my Sunday forthwith as it will free up some of my chronology, despite it being all jumbled up. Today began for me at 10:00 a.m. waking up from a fairly late night last night of memoir accountableness.

The main thought in my mind was to head to the hairdressers so I could get my hair shaved and trimmed before heading back to work on Monday. Feeling this was the most important aspect of my day, I lounged around at home watching Video Hits, having a shower and something to eat whilst counting down the hours before I left. Wishing to try out the hairdresser down at Bradbury Shops after being rejected the day before I set off around 11:00 a.m. donning some decent clothes for the small trek.

Having spent all my money on clothes this fortnight and then a couple more dollars on the weekend I decided to go with the trend for Sunday. Having only enough money to get my haircut and probably visit the cheaper priced movies, I didn’t have the opportunity to see ‘The Mummy’ again this fortnight so my options were slightly open. Making my stroll down to Bradbury Shops it felt good to get out into the sun, the exuberance of the gilding warmth exorbitant against my skin.

Sweet and Sour at Bradbury

The aspiration in heading to the hairdressers at Bradbury was soon brought to a halt as I came to realize it wasn’t open. Nevertheless, unfazed, I headed to the Chinese Shop and stuck around, ordering a small portion of sweet and sour chicken with fried rice. Heading back home after reading that the next bus was leaving near midday to Campbelltown my plan was to eat quickly and then catch the next bus down.

Having half an hour on my plate I done just that as I watched the end of Video Hits and as I looked at the time exceeding me I had to quickly run out the door. The clock on my computer is a couple of minutes slow and that is what I was going off. Luckily, my running to the closest bus-stop where I usually catch it in the mornings allowed me to just make it in time for the bus.

Hailing it down in fear that he won’t stop I was still fidgeting around in my Jag wallet, trying to take out my concession card and money. The bus driver showed no reason to keep speeding off and as he stopped for me, I paid my way on and eased down the aisle in search of a seat.

Jett on the Bus

Coincidentally, almost as well as I looked up to find a seat I noticed Jett sitting a couple of rows back, smiling at me with his prankish grin. Sitting across from him as I shook his hand in our brotherhood fashion we began with small chat. What interesting facts did come from our conversation stemmed from my bringing forth the topic of Tamsen and Keith. “Did you know the both of them are seeing each other now”

I asked and as Jett shook his head disappointedly I listened to his callous remarks. There actually wasn’t much said that I could distinguish between the conversation that I held with him tonight but in the short time we had together, you could feel the anticipation and the want to roll some indignity off his tongue. Just as I am, Jett only tells it like it is, he doesn’t embellish or make himself proper.

I admire someone who has such a forsythe, that is why the both of us get along so well, why I never have a bad word to say about Jett nor he of me. The rest of the trip to Campbelltown I glanced at a blonde girl with light brown amongst her hair. At one stage she glanced back in which I got to see her beautiful watermark brown eyes, spectacular. Wearing a white polo neck sweater with tight fitting denim jeans, she did have a good style about her but unfortunately, her Greek or Lebanese appearance wasn’t my flavor.

A Rushed Trim in the Mall

Uncertain as to how much time I could soak up before my next bus home arrived I made haste down the main street which was under heavy reconstruction of the main road. Entering the Mall I headed downstairs to what I know now to be called ‘Hair-House Warehouse’, shit name but nice place. Nevertheless, I didn’t receive my usual pampering service and rather, I was rushed by a pregnant woman who wasn’t too loving with my hair.

Waiting for a chair to free up I was wondering where the juniors were as I sat comfortably in the corner of their open shop on the chairs there. Casually uncaring, my turn came up with the lady noted. She wasn’t ugly or anything but I just would rather have had the Lebanese lady with the chiseled cheekbones as opposed to whom I did receive. Asking for an undercut and a slight trim she didn’t bother asking if I wanted to have my hair rinsed as I usually do.

This I gather was because the juniors weren’t there in which case it was lucky my hair was easy to work with. Wham bam thank you mam was the sort of attention I received. Her shaving my undercut was all over the place in jerking movements making me wonder if she thought I was art or some wall that she was trying to chisel some paint off.

Taking no heed at the top of my head it felt like some of my longer threads were cut off making me more aware of my bad experience. To add insult to injury, one of the juniors came back in just as my hair was getting shaved. Being a beautiful blonde which followed me with her eyes as she passed, she started shampooing some other girls here and I sat there dismally, wishing it were me.

Wearing My Hair Out

With the haircut complete I was still charged the usual $13 and showing no emotion in my glance as I handed over the money I headed back towards the station. As my hat is still in Keith’s car I didn’t bother taking any headgear down to Campbelltown. Instead, as is not usually done, I decided to wear my hair out as it looked decent for the day.

I like my hair once I’ve had a shower and as I just leave it to dry, it clots together and looks good. This is how I wore it down to Campbelltown, not looking like a feral cat but with some decency about me. Heading to the station I received looks from mostly everyone that I walked past which either meant my hair looked good as I initially thought or something tragic had happened to my hair since leaving the hairdressers.

However, as usual, I’m always causing anxiety in myself with doubtful controversy, I should learn to believe in myself and not feel so vulnerable with my appearance. When I head out to nightclubs and wear good clothes I’m always thinking that people are laughing about my style of dancing or girls are walking away from my area just because of me. I’m learning to overcome this adversary called defeat, discomfort in oneself.

Back to my initial story after such digression, I caught the bus home from the station at midday and arrived home soon after. There was a girl on this bus that I see every morning on the way to work. Having a bag with spikes and being one of those morbid types, she jumped off at the stop where Clayton’s house is. Some stops later I jumped out, walked back to my house and then finding myself a comfort zone, I began to write in my resourceful memoirs.