My love affair with hair was tragically ended around 19, when the little soldiers that were not Under Command started retreating into oblivion. Before that we shared wonderful fist pumping glory days when hair bands were on top of the world.
What grand clothes we wore...I mean, could you ever dream of how many ways you could wear a bandanna or shred your shirt and pants until they looked like a bear had mauled you. Don't we all miss the days when Aqua Net, spandex, boots and eye liner were the shared love of both sexes in the smoking pit?
Oh the pride bound up in long beautiful locks of head banging attitude. Tragically I think all that crap I poured on my lovely locks actually poisoned goldie and now if I let it grow out, instead of Dee Snyder, I look like a suffering chemo patient.
Yes, life crushes a man down into groveling humility. Then add a minivan, a fattening belly, disrespect from your kids, No more looks from the ladies, glazed over eyes from teenagers, fun stealing bills and being forced to suck off the coffee tit in order to pretend to have any resemblance of the Living After Midnight party animal you used to be.
Then the capstone of it all...we are left to attend reunion/comeback tours. There we are forced to face up to the fact that most of us are a pathetic resemblance of the rock gods that we were. Yes, though a few still cling to their thinning, mullet hair....we are now painfully ugly in tight clothes and the devil horns and guttural growls, now look and sound...ridiculous.
When did I turn into the Family Ties dad?
O the agony...Go west young man, go west...as far as you can from middle age.
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