Thursday, August 13, 2015

Baby My Rainbow


    Back in the day, when my hair was down to my ankles, making a trip to the barber was a biannual event — along with shaving, washing, and entertaining a thought.

    In recent times, necessity of smartness and sparseness of follicle have combined to transform my old ritual into a monthly commitment to the common good.

    But you know how it is with commitment.

    What masquerades as a single, overarching aim is sometimes but a small part of a swarm of competing virtues.

    So my appointment with Regular Haircut has taken second place to other pressing concerns like ironing, decorating, and having my scrotum inflated by rowdy hillbilly types.

    Right now, I have the look and feel of a mid-level pop star battling his way bravely through the third week of recording his fourth studio album.

    There are groupies, there is a monkey in a cage who’s gotten sick, and the studio manager smokes cigars way too big for his face.

    A bug nestles on my arm as I tune my guitar for the 6th take of Baby My Rainbow, and the manager calls out for someone to keep the monkey quiet.

    Don, my drummer, touches brush to snare, and I follow with a crisp E.

    Baby My Rainbow
    Take care of me.
    My shoes are worn
    And I don’t have a care.

    Girls, they wear buckles
    And braids all of gold
    But I’m riding out
    On a mare.

    Oh my Rainbow
    Baby My Rainbow
    Sun, sky, and water
    And death.

    Come, girl,
    Come lay beside me
    Come, let us kiss
    With our breath.




    So, yeah, maybe I should get a trim before the week is out.

2 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

Where are the before and after photos?

Whirlochre said...

Apparently they're changing hands on Tor for Big Bitcoin.