i got my hair cut off today. needed a reinvention.

an old woman was sitting inside by the door with her walker when i went in. there was more shawl than old woman. everybody knew her and asked about her recent health problems. she didnt want to talk about her health problems: she wanted to talk about the war. she talked about the "japanese comin' right up behind us and we knew--". she spoke like the war had happened right before her trip to the salon. "that was my era," she said.

meanwhile, i entrusted myself to lady i'd never met before. she asked me to take off my glasses. extra trust. when she washed my hair i realized she smelled like cigarettes and for some reason this was comforting. we didnt speak much and this left a lot of opportunity for listening.

a man came in to get his mustache trimmed.

"do you want a haircut?" his stylist asked.

"no," he said. "just the mustache today."

"are you sure?"

"yeah. there's gonna be a lot of suits at the meeting next week so i want to be sure to look scruffy."

there followed a conversation about the mill union. about how the logging companies don't communicate enough. about how the few construction projects in the county weren't taking from local labor resources the county because of union issues. i learned the word "millwright."

we talked about the storm last night and the storm that's coming in tonight. we talked about the 6.0 earthquake yesterday and the 6.5 earthquake a couple weeks ago. i made a joke about contagious mustaches and nobody else thought it was funny.

it was the perfect microcosm of life at the triple junction.

one of the stylists was on the phone, "no, he's still up at the lighthouse. but when he get's off he wants to meet up at the brewery --"

was she talking about this man? i met him on a stormy hike up in trinidad and asked if i could take his picture. stranger number one. he is the god of lighthouses and creaky boats.

and this is what happened to me: it's a shitty picture but i'm happy with the cut.