I received this email from my favorite living writer, Rick Prose. I'm not afraid to post it, no one hardly reads my blogs anyway. Rick is the manager of the local access public t.v. station in Boothbay Maine(BRCTV). He's amazing. I am including a link to his web site.
He wrote:all that red sand, those rocks, the cactus. the whole time i lived in the southwest, i kept coming upon the beach, but never found the ocean. i'm hopeless at finding things, i guess...peace, contentment, purpose, true love. (this is in response to the canyon painting, which i think is really beautiful, pal).
i got the name of the salon, an allusion to the recently popular book "running with scissors," i guess, but i think it's too subtle and too literary for virginians. if it's not too late to have the sign re-painted, i'd like to offer my top three names for tonsorial/stylistic establishments, which i think might be more appropriate for the southern rural clientele.
1: O'Hair International (for this one i always imagined that the proprietress would have a greeter in orange robes, sort of a Hairy Krishna-type, but that may also be too subtle)
2: Sheer Boredom. no magazines, no TV, no music - no real style, to speak of - just the same haircut given by the same matron with the same snappy patter ('f you'd wash yer har more often, you'd not get them sores on yer scalp)
3: Cut'n'Run. the styling salon for wimpy liberal democrats who want america to lose the war and let a bunch of illegal alien lesbian stem cell researching abortionists take prayer out of the schools, again!
actually, that last one is more of a topical favorite that may not stand the test of time the way, say, "shear madness" has, but i like it, and everyone else should, too.
i just typed this whole thing as a comment on your blog, then realized you might not want me ranting in public with your name attached to said ranting, so here it is.
i also loved the jesus picture and the rabbi's story reminded me of the story you told me once that you thought would make a good kid's book, i think it had something to do with fish, but i sometimes forget to button my fly, so who am i to think i remember things?
going to new orleans this weekend, to try and get something happening on rebuilding a house for some people i met when i was there. i'm a hopeless romantic goof, and not many people appreciate that, i fear.