i was greeted at the salon by the house beagle, who eyed me warily until i found the secret spot behind her ears, after which she set up camp at my feet until i was called. upon sitting in the chair (an old-fashioned barber's chair, which i date somewhere in the victorian era; rather incongruous next to the leopard-upholstered electric chairs scattered throughout the rest of the room), the first thing that was said to me was "please tell me you're not going to ask me to cut this off. tell me you're leaving it long!" to which i nodded, smiled for possibly the first time all day, and politely said that all i wanted was a cleanup and a fringe. throughout the cut, we chatted about music, he told me about his new band, i told him about my new apartment. we spoke with various east village characters who drifted in and out--antibiotics, burlesque, methods of counteracting the dry heat of new york apartments...i walked out significantly lighter in the wallet, but also lighter of mood--which was really the whole point.



after the cut, i trundled to my arranged rendez-vous with dom--under the canopy of the flatbush pavilion, which is two blocks from our new apartment. we stopped by the place to take some measurements and sort some things out with the current residents, after which we retired to my house for some whiskey, some sushi, some guitar playing and some...sleep.



i felt much better by morning.