It always takes me too long to shave. I stand there, lathered, looking like a rabid baboon, sucking in my gut for the no one else in the room and that stupid look in my reflection asking “where should I start.” I always begin at my right side burn, but I still have to think about it every morning like “hey, this is the morning I start somewhere else.” No matter where I place the razor, I’ll have the same face tomorrow morning, the same turbid stare, the same middle-management job and an inbox overflowing with “Urgent - I need it by noon today” emails. That shit takes its toll on body and soul. Growing old gracefully is the kind of crap that only happens in the movies. The best you can do is ease into a memory of some lakeside picnic in a secluded spot, where everything was legs, meaningful kisses and heavy breathing and forgetting about the potato salad going bad in the sun; eyes that looked at you as though they were beholding a king or Elvis or the second coming of Christ, or maybe all three. Now, where was I….shit…it’s 6:30…I should be on the tollway by now…..why does it take so long to shave? Now, let’s see…..where should I start?
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It always takes me too long to shave my face. I stand there, lathered, looking like a rabid baboon, sucking in my gut for the no one else in the room and that stupid look in my reflection asking “where I should I start.” I always start at my right sideburn, but I still have to think about it every morning like “hey, this is the morning I start somewhere else and that will change everything else in my life that sucks.” No matter where I place the razor, I’ll have the same face tomorrow morning, the same turbid look on my face, the same middle-managementjob and an inbox overflowing with “Urgent - I need it by noon today” emails. That shit takes its toll on both body and soul. Growing old gracefully is the kind of crap that only happens in the movies. The best you can do is ease into a memory of some lakeside picnic in a secluded spot, where everything was legs, deep kisses and heavy breathing and forgetting about the potato salad going bad in the sun; eyes that looked at you as though they were beholding a king or Elvis or the second coming of Christ, or maybe all three. Now, where was I….shit…it’s6:30…I should be on the tollway by now…..why does it take me so long to shave? Now, let’s see…..where should I start?
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. There were a couple of missing spaces and I would write: "where should I start" (remove one "I") for that sentence to read better but otherwise it all made sense and was easy to read.
