in which mirrors get fiesty.

Sideburns had to go. while they were starting to curl around my jawline in a very manly fashion, thereby increasing my Gender Ambiguity Quotient, i was having trouble hearing things clearly through the filthy black jungle covering my precious ear parts. early one morning i found myself in a cathartic state, boards of canada blaring, incense burning, with a pair of scissors in my hand. i was going to take down Sideburns, with the help of my trusty mirror.

that's precisely when i reminded myself that mirrors aren't trusty in any sense of the often-misused word. i spent the entire duration of the cd moving the scissors back...no, no the Other Way...okay, just a little bit this way...shit, no This Way...ah, fuck it. hearing isn't really worth all this. but, truth be told, it was memory that held me back. in fourth grade when i felt mature enough to trim my bangs, the tricky mirror optically illusioned Longer into Much, Much Shorter. i had to spend all spring in a misshapen black hat that had only been worn once before, when i was trying out my Magician Skills. it turned out Not to be a magic hat.