beard trimmed by alex, who is young and hip, and v cute--and i most likely didnt need to get the beard trimmed as severe as i did, but i had two thots

a) i wanted to be a good boy, to behave, for Dr Bloomberger, i want to like the music he plays, i want to have the right beard, i want to be calm and patient, i want to do anything i need to do to love--and he makes me feel loved, last thursday he put his hand on my shoulder, and he had we'll work on getting you better, and i trusted him--i tend to trust neurologists more than shrinks, for fairly obvious reasons.
b) alex, who trimmed me, had the razor close to his thigh and his thigh close to my hand, and the closeness, the sheer intimacy, and his attractiveness, i really didn't want him to stop.

there is something about the nature of hair, of closeness, of the razor, of being good, of intimaticy, and of a certain kind of bottoming, becomes emboided and profoundly human in ways that seem new