i was talking to a fellow on the point and i asked if his dog just went to the groomer and he said yes, and he said he was acting strangely afterwards, like he was depressed, and i said it was probably a shock, and maybe he felt exposed and naked, after all fur is like their clothes, but moreso, it's part of them. but i just said maybe he was shocked and embarrassed, like i'm shocked when mister gets shorn, and at first he seems a little sheepish, but he's older and knows like an old sheep, it'll grow back, and in a minute he's feeling like a puppy, like he looks. his dog is a golden doodle. he asked what mister is. a golden i said, that's what they say, he was rescued by the golden rescue society. 
then i went to the palestinian market to get black olives, (amazing, $3.99 special offer, 1.5lb. and the tv was talking snow. did he say snow i said? crazy. it's 70 degrees. i was riding home and i said, ah fuck it, i'm going to buzz my head. weird, i didn't intend that to be italics, this blog is getting a mind of it's own. so i buzzed my head. and my beard. and i rode off and felt a tailwind and there was a tail in the back i missed so i turned around and buzzed it off. when i got back on the bike i felt a cold front off the lake coming down 
49th st.  when i first do it it looks awful, severe, like a prison/military cut, or a sheep, or a dog, but since i'm a boy, it's like reform school, but since i did it to myself (and i'm old) it's nothing like any of those, but it's my rite of spring, goddammit, even if it snows tomorrow, and also i say to myself, to make it stand for something, it's like an act of contrition, for the wrongs being committed, because the wrongdoers don't give a shit for contrition, so on their behalf, and on behalf of all the political prisoners and military dupes of the world.