Barber...ing

   Yesterday's post was really just an experiment with graphic design in linguistic rather than visual form. I guess. Either way now it has its own little outlet into the world. I was just trying to get away from Adam stuff because I thought it had been long enough, but I'm returning to the subject for this post because we just barely had a thought.

   I remembered when it came time to do today's post that, in a car parked at Lattin Farms (you know, the place with the farm stuff and the Adrian Fisher maize maze,) I once sang to Adam to prove that I had chops enough to do a band whose name at that time I think was either Comrade Helicopter or Carpe Feles, which latter one is either way now the name of the record label. Come to think of it, I think at this time (2007?) the band's name would have been Tesseract. (The album's name would have been Hullo, Evereebudee! and its cover would have looked like Salvador Dalí's Crucifixion 

but with three or four crosses, one of each for each band member from which to hang. Which might or might not actually be blasphemy, but I think the last time I thought something was blasphemy it turns out it actually wasn't, so who knows.) The song I used, admittedly not very good, but once again this was about half a decade ago. Anyway, if you're curious, the tune is something akin to that of Generation Y (Skirt II) from the album Birds Cracking Foxy.

Don’t wanna go
Going to the barber shop
Gonna get terrorized
my split ends, (they’ll be)
Chopped!
(don’t wanna go… to the barber shop)
This cesspit of despair
is the mess-pit of my hair
This cesspit of despair
is the mess-pit of…
My hair. My Hair!
This cesspit of despair
is the mess-pit of…
My hair!