Jujitsu

            I went out last night. I can’t be a hermit all the time. I like going to a bar that a friend of mine manages. He and I have good laughs together. He’s learning Jujitsu so there’s a lot of hand movements and jabbing and poking as we talk. I like to know what he’s learning and he’s nice enough to show it to me. But I find myself on the defensive while talking to him. I’m constantly avoiding his hand movements. I have to watch his every move. It’s a little unsettling. Last night he showed me how to dislocate somebody’s shoulder. He grabbed hold of my arm and stepped through an opening and twisted up. I stopped him before I felt any pain. I got the gist of it. I found myself in an awkward position. My friend was holding my forearm  and my shoulder was nearly touching my ear. 

The Burly Barbers

            I turned myself in for a haircut. I hadn’t had an official haircut in sometime. I’d been trimming it myself, mainly around the ears to maintain the mane. I even asked a lady friend who seemed capable enough, but with no previous experience to trim it for me. It was just a mess. It was long and choppy. People were starting to look at me like I was nuts.

            I like to go to an old school barbershop in the neighborhood. The barbers are tough looking Mexican cats who have brought back the old traditions of barbering. They give you a massage when they’re finished with your haircut. They use a vibrating hand massager that you can buy at Sears, big burly guys giving massages. It’s kind of weird, but it feels good. 

            I walked into the shop and sat down in a barber’s chair. There was a television on. It was mounted in a corner near the ceiling. I didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but as I settled in I realized the men were watching a cooking show.  There was a woman explaining how to make Pavlova muffins.

            “A cooking show huh?” I said.

            “You've got to keep the ladies happy,” said a burly barber.

Sam Kinison

I went out last night with my friend Jeff the singer to drop off a demo for a potential gig. There was a kid playing the guitar when we got there. He sounded like Sam Kinison, not a particularly good thing for a singer.  Ohhhhhh! Nooooo! Ahhhhh! Strum, strum, strum. He was a real aggressive strummer. I doubt the kid knew who Sam Kinison was. I think if he did he’d change his style.

Jeff and I were talking to the booking agent. She turned to me in between songs and said, “isn’t he great? I love his voice.”

I felt like saying to her he sounds like Sam Kinison, but she was younger and she probably didn’t know who Sam Kinison was either.

            The kid finished his set and someone yelled "one more." There were maybe five people in the place. I was hoping he wouldn’t play another song. He did.