I just had my hair cut. It was getting long, not enough to fly, but enough to curl.

Whenever I travel into the gut of America I am certain to have short hair, act the part that those of the Yellow River america expect. East cheeseburgers, drink beer and cheer. This is a place of fear and ammo.

In the chair I hear a mix of spanglish and vietnamese among the cutters. While on the radio an english native announces rock vocalists. These are harsh, too harsh in tone, or they are soft, far too soft. Soft enough they ooze into your ear. Both styles are stale, stagnant, vapid vocals.

Modern culture is based upon cliches. Sadly, modern singers can’t coin a cliche. Can’t turn a phrase that turns into a cliche.

Culture is conservative, but this is sad. I am glad that I don’t have to listen to the radio for a living.