These Anenomes Have Prongs

There was a feeling when I woke up today. There was morning wood, but beneath it (or perhaps above) there was something else. A great feeling of joy. This relief, this joy, this irrational outburst of emotion better than morning wood was tied to the fact that I have hair. Long, flowing tendrils of hair.

I do not have cancer. I am not balding. I simply get drunk.

Drunkenness is a sort of warm, sticky feeling for me. I get polite and frequently end up in the company of waffles. This is almost always followed by me standing in front of a mirror holding a razor and getting ready to shave my head.

When people ask how I like long hair I sair "it's drunk and confusing".