Herr Necklace

You know that land bridge that is to have existed in the past, connecting Alaska to Russia, whereby people and animales traveled back and forth and ventured into new lands? That's what I am reminded of every time I look at that area under my ears. Normally, there shouldn't be any hair there, trying to connect the hair of the head from the beard, but lately, once every ice age, or at least a fortnight, I must shave that area to avoid looking like a Cro-Magnon man.

Not only that, but when trimming my facial hair weekly, I also have to remember to get the insides of the ears, ear lobes, and inside of the nose. I get stray dark hairs all the way up to my cheekbones. I think the hair factory in my body is working overtime, but lacking production in one vital area, that is the widow's peaks that seem to be getting more and more severe each time I cut my hair.

In the CD booklet for Phish's live album Slip, Stitch, and Pass, there is a picture of Trey Anastasio, but his name is listed as Herr Necklace. He sports a black tee-shirt with a stretched-out neck, which hangs down to show his massive amounts of black chest hair. A patch of it clearly stands out, looking like he has on a necklace made of hair. I think if I wanted to, I could sport a nice hair necklace. A necklace of hair in the front, with the chain going up over the shoulders and around the back.

Isn't it a very cruel trick that nature plays on a man, giving him a full head of hair in youth, then slowly taking it away and adding it and then some to the rest of the body? I'm not really going bald yet, but it seems like if my head was a major metropolis, that too much of the hairs are moving to the suburbs of the ears, neck, and nose, with more living in the smaller cities of the shoulders, and some prefering the lonely flatlands of the back.

The only places on my body now that seem to be hairless are the bicep area, most of my hands, the bottoms of my feet, and the forehead. I can't really speak for my back because I don't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror, at least not looking at my back. I guess I would rather not know. I suppose I can consider myself lucky that I have not yet had to worry about growing a unibrow. Maybe that is next...