Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain’t no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
–“Hair” from the hippie rock musical Hair
I contacted my hair professional hair friend, Karma Chameleon, whose qualifications are basically that her paper scissor is not rusty, and my childhood friend Nussy, whose qualification is that he has been my friend since childhood and pretty much has nothing going on, to both cut my hair and to digitally document the drama. To add a touch of “spirituality” to the mix, I would conduct a few dharma talks before the haircut about attachment and identification and how if you sleep with a swami who just shaved his head it leads to instant enlightenment.
As I have a short attention span and a budget only a sliver of the size of Robert Rodriguez’s El Mariachi, I decided this would all be done in a single day and I would have to forego hiring the dwarf and donkey for the orgy scene as I had first intended.
Karm-Cham was good to go, having scraped off the Elmer’s Glue and glitter that had become a vestigial part of her scissors since her niece’s 6-year old birthday party where K-C was in charge of the “Let’s make our own paper plate masks!” activity. Nussy, despite having two kids and a house in Chappaqua that, according to popular convention, would require both time and some source of income, was always ready to drop everything to enroll in a project that had little to no artistic value and would most probably be seen by no one.
I had mentioned the upcoming drama to Lorraine, a girl from the kickboxing school, and being in the film industry she wanted in. I told her how I wanted to shoot the bulk of the dharma talks in a park near me and the rest of the filming would be the haircut at Karmchi’s apartment.
On the day of the shoot, Nussy got stuck in traffic and ended up turning around and going back to bed. Lorraine was close to an hour late and Karmeleon had stabbed one of her now 8-year old niece’s friends in the eye with her scissors which were being held in police custody as evidence but assured me she would be out on bail by the time I needed her and could pick up a new pair of scissors for $1.99 at CVS. We spent the remainder of her one permitted phone call from jail discussing whether $1.99 was a good price for scissors or if she should price them at Rite-Aid and maybe Wal-mart if she was a total whore.
[The saga continues in Part 4 tomorrow!]