Hair

Or

Why people look at me.

James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, once said “Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he's got it all.”


I think this post is going to illustrate my world perspective a little better than others have because hair is about image and all the rest of it. So I’ll state it clearly at the beginning of the piece: I couldn’t give a fuck. I genuinely walk through life not caring what people think.
That’s not to say I don’t care what a person thinks, for my friends and family are that which I live and feed off of. A man is not an island. You can’t live in a vacuum and love life. It’s not possible. But you can have enough confidence or, in my case, lack of fear to ignore sustain yourself enough so you don’t need a lot of constant support.

My lack of fear has been with me my whole life. I blame my mother, frankly. There’s a story I tell sometimes to explain it: When I was about 3 or 4, I had my first nightmare. I woke up in the middle of the night, crying, hysterical and precisely how you’d imagine a small crying child waking from a nightmare. I waddled downstairs (I was a chubby child) and went to my mother who was still up and watching television. She consoled me as all mothers do and when I was finally sober and sane enough to communicate, she asked me about my dream. I can remember what it was about. A dragon was trying to eat me. Really fairy-story style. Massive castle, suit of armour, the whole shebang. I was explaining this and getting all worked up all over again and Mother stopped me. She asked me a question that’s simple yet has stayed with me since and changed everything I do or say. “Was it scarier than me?” Those who’ve met my mother may understand that a little more, but I’m sure you can gather from my negative answer and my general being that it speaks for itself. I’ve never had a nightmare since and I’m not scared of anything. I’m not even scared of her anymore. Much.

I am a spectacle. I have been for a while. I only realised recently.
The fun of being a spectacle is that you’re not any different from anyone else. You’re the same, but you’re so much more exciting. You’re thrilling, noteworthy, something to talk about. Out of a choice between being a conversation matter, positive or negative or, alternatively, being forgotten, what would you prefer? Which is why Lady Gaga, N-Dubz and the ‘Go-Compare’ fuckbucket all work as advertising schemes. They’re memorable and unique.
I don’t do the spectacular quite as actively as these marketing campaigns do. I’m a little eccentric. I enjoy that about myself. To quote a friend of mine ‘If you’re not interesting, you’re not funny, you don’t get laid and you don’t do drugs, what’s the fucking point?’ He wasn’t talking about me, he was more pontificating outwardly. I agree, wholeheartedly. If you’re not one of those things, why stay upon the mortal coil? Where can you possibly get your kicks from? A masochistic streak can only last you so long before you search for meaning, be it religious or otherwise, before you start needing some positive reinforcement. But if you have honestly nothing going for you, why bother? And if you have got one of those going for you (preferably three of those four) why not pump them up to their fullest?

Back on subject, Hair is simply an extension of the self. An accessory or statement to further the avatar. That which others perceive you as in the short term. To put it into context, when you walk into a club, are you a ‘that guy/girl’ or a ‘who?’ I’ve noticed many of my friends have a peculiar or individualistic hair styles or colours. One of them yesterday got synthetic dreads put in. Another got real dreadlocks shaped and styled for her to mature. Our friend quoted above has short pink hair.
I have an afro. I realise that I don’t actually have an ‘afro’ as one must be African to have an afro, however that’s how it’s described by others so I assume that’s it’s label. I love my hair. I love the fact that it’s silly and eccentric and some people think of me immediately when they see an afro. As one of my most easily spotted idiosyncrasies, some people say it defines me. That’s not true and is kind of annoying, but I see why they say it. But, due to my lack of fear, I change it drastically once every while. Those who have known me for a long time will know me with short hair, dyed hair (very bad look), straight hair (a rarity as it takes such a long time) and it’s present long curly hair. This is presently the third time I’ve grown my hair quite long. It’s currently about 9 inches long (calm down) and though it’s been longer, it’s usually about this point when I cut it all off. I’m getting that kind of urge more and more recently, but I’ve got other plans for it. I’m looking forward to putting my hair into dreadlocks. I’ve been threatening people with this for a while, but it’s decided: September 2010, I’ll be getting dreads. I can’t wait.
The problem is, I was supposed to be getting them about now. I said to loads of people I’ll get them at the end of the Easter Holiday, and frankly, I’d really like to do that, but I’m really enjoying the big hair at the moment! It’s got to the point now where it’s really fun and versatile and gets me noticed. I’ll get over that, but at the moment I’m just having far too much fun to get rid of it at the moment.
If it doesn’t amuse me or please me, then I get rid of or change something. This comes back to the lack of caring what people think. I think it’s the positive side of my solipsism coming out to play. I govern what I do, I have total sovereignty over what I look like and how I act.

I’m six foot two, I’ve got massive hair, I’m loud and I juggle. I’m an attention seeker, what gave it away? But It’s not a need for attention that drives it, simply the amusement of it. It’s just a game. It doesn’t mean anything, does it? It’s not going to do anything detrimental to my love life, my economic well being or my health, surely? They’re the things that matter, everything else is just flotsam and jetsam only put here for the pleasure and displeasure of the human race. Video games, sudokus, music, hair, juggling and fashion are all part time distractions. So why not enjoy it?

I’m a spectacle, what are you?