nwhat's this?

Hung out with my hairdresser yesterday. Actually, he cuts my hair and I love him because he's actually a fledgling DJ, and a closet rocker poet. He writes cool haikus about ripped hearts and asshole girlfriends, and I love his tattoos.

We sat at the edge of the building smoking, waiting for our movie to start. He touched my ends. "Hey your mullet's looking cool."

"Yeah well, you know to whom I'm grateful for." He gave me my mullet.
He smiled, "I know. You're welcome."

My hairdresser has big curly hair that's so famous nowadays and a nice tattoo on his skinny bicep. He just broke up with his girlfriend (Swanda from Switzerland) about two weeks ago and he's burned. Personally I think Swanda's not interested in his journey as a DJ. I don't either. There's nothing more depressing than being a DJ. I hate electronica and those jinjangs beat. They're so... all over.

But he's helping me to get a job. Nothing much, just helping him around at his barbershop. I wouldn't want to be a shampoo girl, so he says sweeping the floor and arranging magazines and getting bottled water would be nice. I'm cool with it. Eventhough I still have to pay for my own haircut. But at least he's giving me a divine 'do and I'm getting paid.

"How are you holding up?" I ask.
He shrugs. His hand makes a so-so motion. "I'm doing fine. It comes sometimes, it goes most of the time.
I pat him on the back. "That's my boy. You be strong now okay?"

Our movie will start in five minutes. We lean against the ledge in a calm silence, both looking out at the Surf Pool, our thoughts drifting in opposite ways. I think how coold it is for me to be hanging out with a guy who does my hair, and be able to share a smoke, and I feel so content right now.

I like moments like these. I hope it happens often.