The Barbershop is Decadent and Depraved
History is written by victors, like survival of the fittest, only the strongest memories will survive.
In 1844, Sigmund Freud published Centralblatt für die ges. Therapie and there's that very interesting chapter in that book that can specifically be found on pp. 289–314. For some weird reason, no one else is in agreement with him. This makes me wary. In science, it must be replicated to be validated, something like that (I don't really know; not a scientist).
He had this friend, Lou Andreas-Salomé, a common friend with Nietzsche, an intellectual and lover of knowledge, who messed around with the hearts of some of the most brilliant minds in our history. She was just as bad as the candycaine. It's tragic yet poetic, I told a friend.
The Last Wailer by John Jeremiah Sullivan
I found a solution to my search for the perfect barber, which is of course, just bring good reading material (as seen above). You avoid that unnecessary smalltalk and there won't be a need for unrealistic expectations of an intellectual, history buff barber who has libertarian-leaning ideologies. And what a lovely read that article was.
#NowPlaying: Sweet Spot by Yours Truly
Well obviously, Google AdSense prohibits me from using profanity or to be "offensive" in any way. I know I hardly talk about the stuff I'm supposed to tackle in this blog, straying away from my "niche", marketers would say. I did try to make another blog where I can just be completely free and unrestricted but, well, I'm not exactly sure why I didn't continue it. It already had one article in it actually.
Going to the barbershop deals deeply with the concept of trust, to freely allow an individual to use sharp objects on you (most especially if you've seen Eastern Promises). Maybe we should fight for our congress to create a new bureaucracy that will regulate barbershops and grant proper licensure to barbers before anyone gets hurt or worse (sarcasm).
I remember discussing MGMT with a couple of friends last night. Was it last night? I'm not even really sure. I don't really remember days or nights anymore (in their order and relation to events, specifically). There goes the concept of the "strength" of memories.
What an influentially beautiful lie, their first album, which, I think, I argued already that in itself it cancelled out whatever intentions they have because of my own subjective experience of their music and lyrics.
It's times like these when you can actually think about, with conviction, the common notion of imagining life without music.
I believe in world peas. Yes, the round green ones.