dribble of consciousness

Or, things I've been thinking about.

1.) I was telling Mr Barma a story last week, an aside of which is that my dad's crony has a son who has been in prison for many years now because back in the 80s, he supplied drugs to some girl who may have been his girlfriend or just some chick he was boning or wanted to bone (I forget) who promptly OD'd, and instead of taking her to the ER, he panicked, let her die, and hid the body. Eventually leading to his being convicted of manslaughter or perhaps second degree murder. Something like that. Anyway, you hear that kind of thing all the time: the woman who drove home with the pedestrian she struck stuck in the windshield and just...left the car in the garage, the prodomme on the South Shore who allegedly had the client die in session and just dismembered and dumped the body, etc etc. Time and time again, people end up getting in way waayyyyy more trouble than they would have otherwise because they panic and don't take responsibility for their part in someone's death or injury. Have you ever wondered what *you* would do? I like to think I would be smart (not to say brave) enough to do the right thing immediately but then I think of how seductive avoidance has been in less serious circumstances, particularly when I've been in a bad place with anxiety and depression (bills you have no idea how you're gonna pay? don't open them! leaving them for a couple months always makes things better, right? haha), and it kind of scares me that I could do something heinous like that. How about you?

2.) There was this guy I knew when I was young, Paul P. Friend of friends of my future ex-husband. Paul P, who was in a shitty, shitty band that my friend R sang in briefly, had curly blond long 80s rocker hair, and every women I knew, including myself, who ever saw this guy thought he was hot with a capital HO. He was also kind of an abusive bastard to his girlfriend, including I think, but have no proof of, physically, but since I didn't like her anyway and my moral sense was not so highly developed when I was twenty, that was of no consequence to me. Anyhow. One day Paul P cut all that hair off and...no longer hot. It was like Samson. All the power was in The Hair. I find that amazing.

3.) In a somewhat related 80s rocker note, I was reminded today of the fact that Billy Squier is very indirectly responsible for all my current sexual satisfaction, which is even stranger than Paul P losing his mojo when he cut off his hair.

4.) I am trying to cut back to washing my hair every other day to keep the new color in and also because I think my tragic, tragic dry ends are going to be better served with less washing, but it is hard. I hear tell of other people who wash only like once a week and just rinse and condition the other days, and while I think that that would be actually good for me, it kind of skeeves me.

Why is 75% of this post hair-related? I.don't.know.

xoxo