The odd thing about not shaving is that you wind up with a bunch of hair on your face. I realize that sounds like an utterly moronic statement but it’s the truth. Before I retired my razor I gave some thought to things like what I might look like and how my hair would grow in. Was I mustache heavy? A mutton-chop guy? Sure you can trim your facial hair into the shape you want but surely there’s some predominant trait that pops out in raw form.
Somehow what never occurred to me was that on top of how it looked this crap growing on my face would have a feel too. I have to tell you, it feels a lot like hair. It’s sort of itchy and it’s hot and it’s always *there* dammit. I find myself shocked numerous times a day to reach a hand up and discover that, yes, my face has hair on it.
At any rate, the desire to share this beard strike with you all resulted in a weird half-hour while I waited for my dinner where I took photos of myself, a task that is Herculean in nature to me considering the deep-seated and long-held belief that cameras hate me and are out to harvest my soul one shard at a time by constantly offering me proof that I look like Shrek. I wound up hitting the auto-shot button every once and awhile and letting my camera snap off a stream of shots while I did things. My hair was wet for a lot of this.
The themes we were aiming for were, “Jesus Christ This Thing is Itchy,” “My Hair is Too Freaking Long,” and, “I am a Thoughtful Author.”
Hopefully the first draft will be done soon as I’m beginning to frighten small children, but for now we press on and continue to sprout facial hair.