Inspired by a recent stop at my local barber shop. I needed a haircut...
So here I am sitting
sitting in a barber shop
waiting. Waiting. I'm waiting for minutes for my turn to get a trim
, been waiting for minutes but it seems like hour
am I waiting waiting for but to wait more as my hair leaves my scalp
again? The time passes tick
tick tock and the tick scissors
start to time themselves tock with the ticking tick tock of the clock
I start to go silently insane. tick
I stare off into the barber shop mirror, antiquated and dulled with years of delirium glaring and tock tick tick. Waiting waiting as I see infinity close around the room,
mirror after mirror after mirror ticking tick recursion
through a tunnel of little balding Italian
man, all wearing grey smock mocking tock tocking about soccer (football, sorry)
I start to scream inwardly into mytockskull as the minutes turn to quarter hours, the snip-ticking of the scissors rack my spine with infinite mirrors of tension. I am suddenly alone, eating myself from the inside, burning with ice and ticktickeyticktick wishing for time to stop completely, to get the inevitable freeze over with and let me sit here forever and not tempt me with progression.
He dares not look at the tock clock anymore. The hands bend with each passing tick tick and he fears they will ignite any moment, flaring up, flaring up and engulfing the room tock in a sea of flame and wasting time.
Did I really need a haircut today? Were there not thousands of moments elsewhere I could have tick experienced instead of this tedium? Is life really mesaured in coffee-spoons and haircuts? The blue sky beckons. Is there not the sweet ticktocktocktick breath of a lover waiting for me just minutes (walking, not waiting waiting for fuck's sake!) away? I'm becoming vertiginous.
The mirrors spin away, the clock tock barber's smock fades, and I stare waiting.
I have reached the end of time itself, friend, and it is warm here. tick
Finally! _ My turn! _ Finally!