Summer, 1991. It was crossroads time. I'd just failed sophomore History, Biology and Math in high school. I was supposed to go away to Alaska for the summer, instead, I was to spend three and a half hours a day in summer school, redoing geometry.I'd just been exposed, I was listening to Nothing's Shocking, by Jane's Addiction endlessly. It was taking me on a soulful ride through disaffection.
July 3, 1991, summer breeze wafting through my bedroom, Jane's Addiction playing yet again, I took first a scissors and then a disposable bic to my head. Within a few hours, I was naked-head - hairless.
I took a walk on the crowded beach of Chicago, people stopped to ask me if I had lukemia.
Visiting a fancy hotel, an elevator full of Japanese businessmen thought it was pretty funny, they talked about it for a minute before the tallest one asked me, pointing at my head "Pardon me, did you do that for religious reasons?" No, just for fun.
My Mom's jaw dropped, but she didn't have any memorable comments. George said I looked like "a fuckin' mooney."
For two months, I shaved it about every ten days, with water and a disposable razor. I found it gave me the closest shave.
I loved that bald feeling - nothing, baby smoove, I'd slather baby oil on my head, and just sit there and rub it. When my head hit the pillow, I could feel each of the hairs being rubbed by the fabric. Everything felt new on my head, rain, showering, the sun. I was connected.My friend Donnan wrote with a bald memory:I did finally let my hair grow out, I didn't cut it from September 1991, until October 1996.
whenever anyone asked you if you were growing out your hair, pleading for a yes, you'd say:
I am today.