how I learned to stop worrying and learn to love going bald.(part 2)

I had longhaired friends that would try to commiserate by pushing back their flowing locks to point out a small trangle where hair might have been at one time. “ See, I’m going bald too!” “yeah, whatever”, I’d sniff halfjokingly, “I’m in the shit, man, I AM bald!” If they where going bald, it was going to be ever rougher on them than it was ever could have with me. My relationship with my hair ended the way a lot of unheathy ones do. I hated it and it hated me, so it left. The glue of familiarty was not enough to keep to keep us together. For them it would be like a good marrage ending. You think you’ll be happy and together forever, but fate has other plans.

The last time I grew my hair long, I grew it it’s longest. never letting the back and sides break the quarter inch mark, my hair that would steal my virility had it’s last good run. I could pull my hair over my eyes and halfway down my throat. That doesn’t sound like much, But it was enough to cause concern in my Mother. “It’s just so hard to keep neat that long.” She should have realized that I was only going to think that she was trying to bring me down. But I would realize soon enough how right she was.

I saw a video tape of my old band at one of our best shows, at an outdoor festival that had happened a few weeks before. My rockstar headbobs caused my hair to fuse into sweaty waves, rolling in one by one. And as one crashed into the side of my face, the part left in my scalpas wide as my thumb. Parting like the rea sea, with ample room for Moses and a few Israelites. I was horrified.

I knew my options we’re dwindling. I lived close to a college, so hats were very common, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear one for too long. Heaven forbid that I may fool a young woman with an tonsorial covering only to cause a “crying game” like surprise when the hat would eventually come off. If I was talking to woman and things were going even remotely well, I would make sure to take off my hat. Better for her to be disappointed sooner that screaming into the night later. Once at a cap dophing mid toga party my pate inspired a surprised “AAAAHHHHH” from a young lady. She might have said that much softer than I remember, but to the male ego, volume is a formality. Self doubt elevated it’s memory to sound downright deafening. I was even less appealing than I thought I was. At age 24 the “horseshoe”,as I called my hair, made me look like the oldest guy no matter where I was.

My last attempt to fight the inevitable came in the form of hair layering. I grew the remaining hair on the top of my head a little longer as I buzzer the back and sides with clippers. The shortness mixed with the sparseness gave the “illusion” of hair uniformity. Or so I thought. My inability to see the back of my head made me unaware that the ravages of Male pattern baldness had extended past the top of my head to the back of my scalp. So when I buzzed the back of my head it made me look bald from the back of my crown to the southernmost scarceness. It gave me a half moon bald spot that I didn’t know existed until I saw the pictures of a friends wedding and remarked, “who is that guy with the smiley face on the back of his head?” only to quickly realize that it was me. I asked a friend why he never told me he said,” I thought you wanted to look like that”.

That was it for me, it all had to go. It helped my that one of my best friends had gone bald about the same time and was going through a lot of the same of the same self doubts. I’d shave my head, but not all the time. I hadn’t really gotten very good enough to do it regularly. I’d gotten over enough of the shock of going bald to realize that my luck with women had greatly approved the more comfortable with the baldness I had become. It was really me being comfortable with myself, as lame as that sounds. I don’t know much about women but I do know that most of them don’t like the smell of despiration, and the ones that do, you want to stay away from. I must have been lousy with it since I was a teenager and I just didn’t have to energy to keep that up forever. Bald or not that was the real key.Whitney was right! Learning to love yourself truly is the greatest love of all! It didn’t hurt that I had total strangers paying me un solicited compliments on my appearance. “You look really good bald” “shucks, ma’am, Thanks.”

My Dad always told me that I could have gone to the”dark side” of coping with baldness. Hiding behind the fingerlike tendrils of a “combover” or investing in some god forsaken hair transplants. People always describe hair plugs as looking like “barbie hair”, but to me it resembles Vietnamese rice patties. Tiny, hopeful sprouts, jammed methodically into the stillness of bare scalp. Neither of these methods seems to work piticularly well, and the men that resort to these tactics seem to be immune to evidence to the contrary, from the snickering of co workers to the jokes of countless stand up comedians. Men who wear “speedo” bathing suits suffer from a similar immunity. “They’re not talking about me!” Yes, in fact, they are.

Now I shave my head about every other day or so with a 3 blade vibrating razor (yes, it does make a difference). I do it in the shower without the benifet of a mirror, although i need one to touch up, apres shower. I do it at night, because I’m a little to blurry in the morning to touch up and I go to work with a stubble stripe on my head. Which is hard to pull off, self confidence or not. Or sometimes I don't shave, no real reason. The point is that I am not my hair and my hair isn't me.

Now the only evidence I have of my unruly past are my increacing erratic eye brows. for the past few years I’ve had to deal with a COWLICK in my eyebrow. It’s made up of one hair, one thick, dark hair, pointing shoe-ward. I try to pluck it, but it’s growth goes unchecked once and a while. It can be distracting enough for people that on more than one occasion people I’ve been talking to have attempted a mid-conversation extraction.
“I’m sorry, it was driving me crazy.”
I know these are the first shots in the next war I have with my hair, the front:eyebrows. The war with my hair has had victories for both sides, with me winning my ears, face, nose and head with hair claiming most of the rest of my body. I will not allow my ‘brows the take the extra furry catepillar look of a tenured physics professor.

I often see parents admonish their kids when they state the obvious ,”mommy, that man has no hair.” But there is no reason to correct them,I do actually take a buzzing razor to my head to look this way. They’re just telling me that I succeeded.

My friend Shawn is the only person outside of my family to have known me with hair. When I show people pictures or home videos of when I wore younger man’s hair, I always get the same reaction. “I think you look better now.”, I hear. I think so too.

I probably shouldn't do this, but....

Ever since I got back from Arizona, I've doing a lot of recording. I wanted to record some demos that my friend Christian could download. He's going to be drumming for me(yes I'm going to play out again). But I really like the songs and wanted to share them, as I often do. {A WARNING} These songs are demos, rough in places, but not without it's charm. It's on purevolume I'll post songs there when I'm done with them. I will eventually collect the songs on a CD that I'm calling "Earth Don't Suit You"

My Back Pages.

I created a Myspace page for my old band the Milk-O-Matics(who counted, at one point, Lonnie Bruner on guitar). Check it out.The Milk-O-Matics

How I learned to stop worrying and learn to love going bald.(part 1)

The summer of my 19th year a prophecy had started to fulfill itself. I was inspecting my hairline in a huge hotel mirror, tracing the triangles of newly barren skin with my finger, areas that used to freely sprout my trademark "“baby fine" hair from my scalp without a care in the world. I, for some reason, had never noticed it leaving, just when it became downright Nicolsonesque. I went from Easy Rider to Chinatown in the blink of an eye. Being 19 and having a 40 year old hair seemed like the end of my life. Melodramatic, yes, but it has proven to be a sentiment echoed by many sufferers of Male Pattern Baldness. It is also known as premature baldness, like there is Mature Baldness. I don'’t honestly think that most men going bald think to themselves,"well, this is happening right on time." You'’re losing part of your self.

When I referred earlier to my “trademark "baby-fine" hair it wasn'’t a boast. One of the longest dysfunctional relationships I have ever had has been with my hair. Adding them up together I firmly believe that I'’ve had at least a bad hair decade. Through elementary school my hair was shiny,straight and obedient. Right around the time that my social skills with the opposite sex had caught up with my desire to be social with the opposite sex, it turned on me. My hair had became the follicular equivalent of an unruly child, never standing still for long and easily distracted. Under the right conditions it would be as malleable as aluminum foil. I could grab a fistful at the top of my head, pull up a little and let go, and my hair would stay up in a lolling tongue of potential embarrassment. Humidity would puff out my hair until the strands would bend upward . If the process happened any faster, you'd swear I was about to get hit by lightning. Anytime my paths between classes had a boy'’s bathroom, I would duck in to wet a comb and beat my hair down. Water had to be my only styling aid. This being the 80'’s, brlycreme was hopelessly out of style and mousse and gels gave my hair the texture of cotton candy stuck to a park bench on a hot day.

I realized how successful I was with this course of action when I was a freshman in high school. My old Junior High had a dance that was open to the high school kids. I roamed the Auditorium with a new authority and assuredness paired with a unusually good hair day. I was at the top of my meager game. I overheard some jr. high girls talking about me and I tried to focus an ear on their conversation. I missed most of it but one comment was very clear,"At least he combs his hair now." BUT I COMB MY HAIR 8 FREAKING TIMES A FREAKING DAY! I didn' t really shout that. Out loud.

My senior year in high school, my hair was vote "“most unique"” in the yearbook. This distinction was much like my 'do winning a "“best new artist"” Grammy award, an honor that history would soon make meaningless. The last tick of the old rollercoaster before the rapid decent into obscurity. Years later (post-balding), a discussion of Senior superlatives with a couple friends let me to quiz them about which one I could have been voted for. "“It'’s the least likely to win now."”, I offered. "“Most athletic?"”, one answered. "“o.k. second most"”.

I happened to start losing my hair right around the time that Rogaine first was introduced, a lucky break for me. The TV ads then couldn'’t mention the drug by name, but would helpfully suggest "“There are options for men losing their hair, ASK YOUR DOCTOR!" Yes, thank you, I will!

"“It won'’t work for you!"”, my doctor said. I had the wrong kind of baldness, I was thin on top and Rogaine worked on the bald spot kind and if it was bigger than a silver dollar it was too late anyway. And did I want to spend $50 a month anyway?

I asked my doctor about my future and she said,"”Well you get the baldness gene from your maternal grandfather, so you should only get as bald as he is at about the same rate." My granddad Highsmith at this point was bald, but every picture that I had from him from his thirties and forties showed a hairline that had retreated, but not yet given up. But further closer inception lead me to a harrowing discovery. His lonesome tuft had the upswept appearance and polmade shellacking that is.... the combover.

Fast forward to my early 20'’s I could make this liability work for me a bit. Bad hairstyles are as much a hallmark of that phase of life as binge drinking. I used to keep the back and sides of my hair super short and the top as long as I could get it. I could freak it out easily with a couple rubs to the top of head. I had to grow it while I had it, because it was most assuredly was going. But for the first time I actually got compliments on my hair!

I was most terrified about the effect my impending pateage would have on the ladies. My luck had never exactly been good to begin with but in my twenties it was abysmal. I could have used it as a superpowers. Any female supervillian would have been too preoccupied with giving me an excuse for why she wouldn'’t give me her phone number to engage in any evildoing. I had taken a informal poll among my female friends about how baldness affected male attraction. A lot of them told me not to worry about it, that my character was more important. But my friend Eric'’s girlfriend said," I would love him if he went bald, but I don't know if I would be as attracted to him if he was bald when I met him." It was a figurative kick to the groin, because that's exactly what I was afraid of. Every morning'’s mirror gaze was to see the sand in my sexual hourglass slipping away and ending. I would run my fingers through my hair and count the hairs my hand brought back.

Unless TV and Movies were lying to me, all of my fears were completely justified. Balding men have played lecherous boss and cockolded husbands with surprising regularity. It caused me to become slightly over senitive to the portrayal of the tonsrially chalenged. "“Why do they alway get a BALD man to play the child molestor?"”, I would occasionally shout. Balding actors back then traditonally straddled the line between nebbishness and creepyness. I didn'’t want to share an apperance trait with Walace Shawn (he'’s been in a few Woody Allen movies and he'’s the "“it'’s inconSHIable"” guy from the Princess Bride) and Clint Howard (if you don'’t know who he is, get thee to the internet, quickly). My friends would try to offer that guys like John Malkovitch and Sean Connery are sexy and bald. In my contentious mind these were small victory in a larger war. For every Captain Picard there are six George Costanzas.
more later...

Things that I have NEVER understood about men.

Being a male of the species gives me the opportunity to talk and interact with them in a way that women aren't privy to and there are many stereotypical activities that I will gleefully join them in. I will ogle women, I will be free with gaseous disbursement, I will click through TV channels at lightning speed, but there are certain quirks that I cannot get my mind around. I'm not talking about the participation and watching of sports, I don't do either very much but I understand the appeal. I'm not remotely attracted to Jessica Simpson or Paris Hilton, but I can see how another fella might be(I call it the Pam Anderson factor). But these things are beyond my comprehension.
(I feel I must qualify this a bit. I've been lucky that most of my close male friends don't do these things, at least not all of them.)
1. Menstruation-
It's a fact that throughout history that women bleed out of their genitalia every month. It's something men, flat out, need to get over. Women still, as a whole, have a much higher hygiene level than men.
A long time ago a woman told me that kept her pot stash in a tampon box when she traveled because she knew if a male cop pulled her over, that was the last place he'd look for ANYTHING.
2.The cheating double standard-
I used to work with a guy at the Sharper Image who had two kids with his girlfriend. He would tell us story after story about women he had hooked up with, some of whom would visit at the store. I asked him how he'd feel if his girl had been with somebody else and without hesitating, he said, "I'd kill her." I've heard this sentiment repeated, less colorfully, many times by other dudes. I've occasionally heard it trying to be explained away as, "well, men have needs..." Betrayal is betrayal, chalking it up to biological imperative is bullshit.
3.The weight double standard-
Another thing that I understand but don't agree with is when men aren't attracted to women with a little weight on them. This attitude has gotten me labeled as a chubby chaser, but that's just not the case. I happen to have a broader view of what I think is attractive in women, It's how you carry yourself that's important to me.
On a slow day at the Sharper Image, a couple of co-workers and I hung out at the front of the store watching the women pass by. To paint a picture, bodywise we were like a "before","during", and "after" in a diet ad, with me being the "after". I saw one lady that made me comment,"she's cute", to which the "before" said, "Maybe if she lost some weight." To which I said, "Motherfucker, maybe if you lost some weight. You could take our extra blubber and Make one of her!"
4. Sterility-
I don't understand why men think it's a sinking shot to their masculinity when they have a low to non existent sperm count. This is something that I've seen more in TV and movies than real life, but it has happened. I had a friend once drunkly confide to me that if he was the reason he and his wife couldn't conceive, she would leave him. I tried to reassure him, "if it was that important to her, she would have put your boys under the microscope before you got married."
5.Oral sex reciprocity-
This makes me ashamed to be a man. If a woman goes down on you, you should return the favor (and it is a favor). That's at the very least common courtesy. I've heard many a protest, "It's gross!", which would be a valid argument only if the by-product of a blow job was chocolate.
6.Why men are threatened by smart women-
I have little patience for men or women that act dumb when there are so many people who come by it honestly, but it happens and I don't get it. Even for just a date or a romp in the old sack don't you need at least some intelligent conversation between orgasms? Maybe this is why I'm not attracted to Jessica or Paris.
7."Your girlfriend left you for another woman and you don't feel like less than a man?" "Not at all. I could give her a lot, but I couldn't give her another vagina."
8. Men talking their significant others into getting breast jobs.
"If you really love me, you'll mutilate yourself so I won't break up with you for six more months."
Don't even get me started about the male obsession with a shaved female pubic area. Hopefully no one will ever ask me to do it to myself. With my body hair, it would look like a old guy just getting started mowing an over grown lawn.

Ladies, don't think you're off the hook, there's a lot more I don't understand about you.

Are You Dead? Take my quiz.

If you answer, "Yes" to all these questions, you may be dead.

1. Do have extreme joint stiffness?

2. Have you experienced severe uncontrolable body odor?

3. Do friends and loved ones cry in your presence?

4. Are your eyes covered by coins?

5. Have you experienced sudden blindness, deafness and/ or total loss of appetite ?
( Important, because if you have an insatible hunger of human brains, you are, in fact, a zombie)

Are you rich and famous? Take my quiz.

If you answer "yes" to all of these questions, than you might be rich and famous.

1. If you were senselessly murdered by some random nut, would the press call it an "assassination"?

2. If you woke up one day and came up with a ridiculous nickname that you wanted everyone to call you, would they do a joke about it on late night T.V.?

3. If you got a D.U.I., would you have to evade more than a dozen photographers outside the police station when you left?

4. Do you issue a press release (that gets used) when a relationship ends?

5. When you have a crazy idea, is there someone in the room that writes it down?

6. If a videotape of you having sex appeared in the internet, would everyone in America know about it by the next day?

7. Do you often yell at people for things that a lot of normal people would let slide?

8. Do you have no idea how to answer that last question?

Episode VII-Salad Days of the Jedi

This is a bit of a large post. I got inspired over the weekend to write this.

Star Wars
Episode VII
Salad days of The Jedi

It’s been ten years since the Battle of Endor ended the brutal tryany of the Empire . The chaos of the Rebelion has given way to an era of peace and stablity unseen in over a generation. The heroes at the heart of this victory: Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia have settled into domestic lives that are in stark contrast to their early adventures. Their bonds have remained strong as Han is now married to Leia and is Luke’s brother-in-law. They live on Han’s home world of Correllia with their two children. Luke lives the single life on Courosant and is visiting the Solo’s on the occasion of Leia’s 35th birthday. After a modest party is winding down, Han and Luke reminisce about a long time ago......

Luke Skywalker and Han Solo have gained a couple pounds over the years, but they have retained their youthful spirt and their original hairlines. Hair color, though, has grayed a bit. They kick back in the living room with space tumblers of clear orange liquid.

“I talked to Chewie the other day,” Han offered, breaking the silence.
“Really, what’s he up to?” Luke asked.
“Well he took some time off to hang out in Kashyyyk, where he’s from.”
“Ya know, I’ve been there and it seems like Endor, except everthing’s a lot bigger “
Han warned, “I noticed that too but DO NOT mention that to Chewie, he doesn’t like being compared to Ewoks.”
“I don’t blame him.”
They enjoy a light chuckle.
Luke said, “You know, it’s interesting you bring Chewbacca up, I keep forgetting to tell you this. I was talking to Yoda a little while ago.”
”You mean the dead green one?”
“Yep, he knows Chewie.”
Han’s legendary cool was broken, “GET OUT! “
“No, really. They fought together during the Clone Wars. In fact, he helped him escape after the clones turned on the Jedi.”
Han slipped into a different kind of disbelief, one based of scepticism instead of astonishment. He asked,“Wow, is the galaxy THAT small?”
Luke was puzzled,”What do you mean?”
“Out of ALL the people, in ALL planets, in ALL the galaxy, don’t you think it’s an astronomical coincidence that Chewie and Yoda happen to know each other?”
Luke was still struggling, “It doesn’t seem strange to me.”
“Really?” Han continued,” I also thought it was also kind of weird that, if I remember the story you told me correctly, that your uncle just HAPPENED to pick c3p0 and r2d2?”
“You know, my dad build c3po,” Luke offered.”
“You see?, That just kinda proves my point! And I’ve never gotten over that Leia just HAPPENED to be your sister.”
Luke had an easy explaination, “It’s the Force.”
Han was not impressed,”The GODDAMN Force, it’s always the Force with you.”
“Well, Han, it is powerful and mysterious.”
“So’s my prostate, but I don’t use it to explain away things that just can’t make sense in the universe I live in.”
“I guess that’s why I’m the Jedi Master.”
“I guess you are, at least what passes for one these days.”
“I’m having a hard time not being offended by that, Han”
“I apologize Luke, It’s just that I’ve been studing up on the history of the Jedi, and you studied with Yoda for how long?”
“A couple of years, off and on.”
“Right, well, before the Empire, the Jedi would only start training someone when they were practically an infant. In fact they almost didn’t take your dad cause he was the ripe old age of 10. And they trained, hard, for 10 years to be a Jedi.”
The strain of Han’s aggresion towards him started to rattle Luke, “I don’t know, maybe I’m a fast learner. I was good enough to defeat the dark side, I do know that.”
“Against a guy who’s half droid, who can’t breath on his own who wears a huge helmet? I’ve seen some of the old holograms of the ways Jedi’s used to fight and it makes that final fight with Darth Vader and Obi Wan in the first Death Star look like two drunk Gammorians fighting outside a cantina. And I don’t know if you’ve seen your old man as Anakin in the recovered holograms ,but he was annoying. No offense, but that chestplate Darth Vader wore must have had a whine supression circut.”
Luke had had plenty, “Where is this aggresion coming from?”
But Han Solo had one more point to make, “and if this force is so all knowing, why didn’t it stop you from making out with your sister?”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Back on Hoth,” Han remembered,”after we spent the night inside that tauntaun. When you were on the mend, and Leia wanted to make me jealous and made out with you in the med lab in front of me?”
“We didn’t make out, it was just a kiss!” Luke said.
“That’s not the point, these little parasites, the midi-whati-its, can make you sense when somebody dies from light years away, or if a blaster beam is coming, but couldn’t tell you to dodge your sister’s tongue!”
Luke could sense a dark energy surrounding Han and him, one that a Jedi is ill prepared to defend against, bad vibes.
“Enough Han, enough!” Luke said, “If you’re pissed off at me for something I did, I hope you’d tell me.”
Han softened and put his head in his hands,” I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”
Han got up and sat next to Luke.
He leaned in towards Luke with his eyes peaking over Luke’s head to check for his wife’s eventual entry after putting their two kids to bed.
“This pention life is killing me,” he whispered. “Before we met up, your life was moisture evaporators and power convertors, but I was a friken smuggler. I lived a life full of outer space adventure, but now....”, Han trailed off.
“I’m sorry, Han, I never realized.......”
“Do you know how deep I was in it? Enough to have a bounty hunters from all over the galaxy after my ass. I won the Falcon in a goddamn sabacc game. That was how I was livin’ every day, a spaceshipLuke. In a game. A fast one too,it made the Kessel run in..”
“Less than five parcets,” Luke interupted,”I know, there’s no need to remind me.”
“I mean, I’m grateful for my life with Leia and the kids,” Han says moving in even closer, “but I used to be a intergalactic bad ass!”
“We both were. But the Force plays a strange game with us all,” says Luke.
The etherial vision of Yoda appeared in front of the two men.
In his inimitable style he said , “Han, grow up, you must. Luke, the fuck up you will shut.” and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.
Han and Luke looked at each other and called it a night.