My greying hair resembled a yarn mop.
So I went to my two-chair barber.
A card table displayed a bottle of purple drink and some dixie cups.
"Have some wine!"
It was good.
For haircut wine.
The barber said it was homemade.
"You can't get it anywhere else!"
I looked at a big jug of it.
"Jugs are $30," he said.
The guy in the chair spoke.
"It's good wine!"
I tapped a bottle.
It was a thin vodka bottle.
"How much is this?"
"That's 3 dollars."
It was 10am on a Tuesday.
I just bought homemade wine from a barber.
Maybe he could pull my wisdom teeth, too.
While waiting for the haircut, I decided to brood some more about that stupid Stuff White People Like book.
I wanted to find out why it affected me so much.
Research suggests that I don't mind being a punchline.
As long as I am the one making the joke.
That's the whole point of this blog.
Look at what a loser I am buying wine from my barber before noon.
Ha ha ha, but I'm not really a loser, right?
Stuff White People Like is telling me that yes in fact, I am actually a real loser.
Look at this loser putting his diary online.
Everyone's a writer, you pinhead.
Been on the internet much?
You're not unique.
You worship The Wire and eat at stupid diners just like every other middle-class Gen X indie rock slouch entitled to remain clueless and directionless at age 35.
You had your chance to do something.
You spent it at bars doing bits.
Now you're old and confused.Ha ha ha.
I wasn't ready for this sort of confrontation from a novelty book at Borders.
The people that usually made fun of me were mono-chromosomatic Wrigleyville rapists yelling "faggot" at me because I was riding a bike.
Those guys usually didn't have things like insight.
They didn't put out books.
Although I'd like to see that book.
Badly drawn stick figures with captions like "Faggot" and "Fuckin' Faggot".
Bikes are hard to draw.
I'm being directionless again.
The point is I could write them off.
And now I was the one being written off.
After the haircut I noticed that the tire on the van that had been patched yesterday was sagging again.
I went home and uncorked the previously corked bottle of haircut wine.
And went from figurative to actual loser.