uncut raze the night i stopped being a teenager and became something that felt the same but made a stranger sound when i held it on my tongue, a woman asked me for a light on university avenue west. "don't cut your hair," she said. "i used to have long hair. longer than yours. i cut it all off after my daughter died. don't do what i did. you cut your hair, you're cutting your spirit." it made me think of christian. anna said he changed when he tamed his mane and moved to toronto. that shy, sweet kid we both fell in love with disappeared. the last time i ran into him was at an office supply store. i was buying recordable cds. all he wanted to talk about was his new band. he'd been listening to a lot of jeff_buckley. he said he thought he messed up his voice at their last practice, but the note he hit that hurt his throat was pure. "it was a great note," he said. "really. highest note i ever hit. not even falsetto." "we should get together," i said. "don't call me," he said. "i'll call you." i took him at his word. i never heard from him again. my hair might lack the heft it once had, but it's been more years than i can remember since it felt the cold kiss of hairdressing shears. i aim to keep it that way. 240909 what's it to you? who go blather from