"Life's funny like that."
"A laugh a minute."
- Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World
In the Whole Foods produce section, I happened to see a strapping guy with a smoking brush cut. Intrepidly approaching him, I asked,
"Pardon me, but may I ask where you got that haircut?"
"In South Africa."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I can give you the address of the place in Cape Town."
"I want the haircut before I go."
Walking back from Whole Foods, I saw a hummingbird at work four feet in front of my face. Man, those guys have got some swivel-action pivot control; they're like the gyroscopes of the animal kingdom. In the parking lot, I ran into my neighbor who also had a smokin', summertime brush cut. He directed me to a place on California Avenue.
"Does he use clippers, or scissors?"
"He uses everything. The guy's meticulous. It's a committment. You'll be there a while."
"Perfect. This is my first proper haircut in five years. I need to be in the hands of a professional."
There's also, incidentally, it turns out as I discovered in my web searches for pictures of the perfect haircut this whole community/cult of haircut fetishists online. Many are gay or closeted, judging by their fascination with Marine Recon, Army Ranger, etc. haircuts. Also an unhealthly level of interest in professional soccer players. Moreover, these guys are fixated, variously, on flat-tops, high-and-tights, induction cuts, fades, Ivy Leagues, etc. Check it out
. I guess it really does take all kinds
to make the Internet go round . . .