Wednesday, March 12, 2008

All My Children

Recently I've felt that everyone is my child and I'm watching them grow up. Even people who are older than me.

My students have at least one gray hair apiece. I have found two so far on my own head. I wish we could all pull the silver hairs out and lay them on our polished wooden table. I wish we could talk about our gray hairs instead of the news topic. I wish I could stroke their glossy black corporate consultant heads. Their Tokyo University heads. Their top fashion photographer heads. Their graphic designer heads. I wish they could speak to me more honestly. I like it when they complain. I don't like it when they overuse the word "convenient." Convenience might be the worst disease we've ever suffered.

7 comments:

Kate said...

I've got some really long silver ones on the sides of my head behind my ears... how do they get so long without me noticing? it's a mystery. I once wrote a story about an old woman with 3 silver hairs growing on her chin. I should post it.

Anonymous said...

Cracked though they are, their eyes are sharp as drills
And shine, like pools of water in the night, -
The eyes of little girls whom wonder thrills
To laugh at all that sparkles and is bright.

The coffins of old women very often
Are near as small as those of children are.
Wise Death, who makes a symbol of a coffin
Displays a taste both charming and bizarre.

elle elle said...

Wow, Baudelaire left a comment on my blog!

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Anonymous said...

I discovered it at about the same time as another scar...wondering where both came from. There must be some reason. Though most gray hairs only see your post-antique years, at best, mine holds stories of my childhood as well. I think maybe he'll tell the others when they come. Especially since he's had such a good view there right at the front...his time spent largely unnoticed.

elle elle said...

bill, you have a scar and you don't remember where it came from?
didn't it hurt to get the scar?
didn't it hurt to get the gray hair?

Anonymous said...

elle elle,

you are so incredibly lucky that, by chance, i came by this blog again wondering how the hell this post has 6 comments, but you've deleted all the other ones and saw your questions.

i'm going to answer them. the answers won't be good.

i have a faint memory where it came from, but i don't know if that was just a bad dream. it was in-between a good, solid pooping and needing to get the crack nack outa there where there was a technical incident. maybe i tripped. maybe i just fell. maybe i was just shocked at my reflection. but something happened.

it most definitely hurt to get the scar. but i don't remember it. so, i guess that means that it didn't hurt.

the gray hair is thinner...has a lot of room to pop outa that big folicle. so, i suppose it must have not hurt either. sometimes he gets proud and i have to put him in his place, though.