This week I’m going to do it.

Up until now I’ve only almost cut my hair. Crosby, Still, Nash and Young syndrome you might say.

I look like a wildman. I don’t even bother to comb my hair up here in the wilderness.

I keep hoping for re-entry. A return back to a normal life.

Getting my hair cut is a ritual.  A statement of hope. Almost a prayer.

HA HA HA.

(you don’t always like the answer when you pray, so I’m told).

~Jim