Barber Shop

I have lived here in New York City for 602 days so far and this was the FIRST day I thought that this city was going to do my head in. It finally happened. I lost the love. (For a moment.)

The roaring sirens, the bus screeches, the subway thundering, the crowds and slow walkers and fast dodging walkers, the dogs, the knee high school children, the bad cell reception, just the whole damn thing. I wanted to just add to the cacophony and SCREAM!!!

I think I was just feeling so overloaded with "return this" "call this person back" "did you think of this?" "What happened to studying French everyday?" "Have you written to so and so for a job yet?" "What about the pipe band?" "Why can't you balance yet?"

"Do you really need a haircut?"

Arggggh.

I was rushing to the barber shop to get my haircut and then to a place on the Upper East Side then to home to write this job hunting newsletter and then and then and then...

Okay. Calm thyself.

I LOVE my new barber. My friend Pat Ravey turned me on to him. His name is John or Emon. One of the two. He is Russian or Israeli. One of the two. He says to me "I cut your hair and you get good job." With that accent that just seems older and sager than anything I got. I wanted to tell him all my problems, but I thought it inappropriate for a $15.

John or Emon and Me. See how pre-occupied I look? Argggh?

I took a safety to lighten the hell up:

Anyway, he really calmed me down and I just love his place. I asked for a card to plug his joint, but there is no website and, get this, the name on the card: "Barber Shop." So folks it is a great place called Barber Shop at 333 Park Avenue South between 24th and 25th. Tell 'em the Pats sent you.