Thursday, 23 April 2009

Drone and spike

I'm reviewing The Drones for Liveguide this weekend. I used to be excited about it but something has happened. Something very important has happened. My hair has ceased to cooperate with me. I used to scoff at women who worried more about their appearance than anything else but that was before my hair went psycho. I have half a mind to give myself my very first spray tan just to see if my orangeness will distract people from my hair.

My hair has betrayed me before. When I went to visit Gemma in Melbourne and one year at This Is Not Art. Both times I forgave my hair and blamed the unfamiliar water but not this time. Oh no. It is most definitely a full scale hair mutiny rendering me incapable of leaving the house without a hat. My hair might be laughing now but just wait til it sees the scissors.

I've been thinking about a man named Spike. He's the answer to the Who Am I question. I don't know him very well yet but he seems to have a beautiful way of thinking about things. He radiates simplicity. He seems open, uncomplicated and fair. He was telling me about how he found a band to drum with. He replied to advertisements and went along to auditions. He said most of the time he was just doing it for joy of meeting someone new and experiencing their music from the inside. He is joyful and kind and generous. He makes paint splattered shorts and a bandana seem like a good fashion decision. I have decided that if one day I am struck by a sudden bolt of magic and become a man that I would like to be just like Spike.

2 comments:

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

Is that your present hair in the photo to the right? I think it looks lovely. Cockerspanielish.

Dale Slamma said...

Well it's sort of my present hair. Sometimes it is more purple than others and occasionally I drag a comb through it.

My cousin once owned a cocker spaniel named Carpenter, he was so named because he did odd jobs around the house. It took me about ten years to figure out the joke but to be fair I think I was seven when I heard it but by then poor old Carpenter had gone and died.