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The Barber

August 18, 2010 By Mark 2 Comments

I had occasion to get my hair cut recently, by a barber named Rocco Scali. He’s been cutting hair in Brooklyn Heights for fifty years, tending the finely-coiffed locks that populate the nearby Superior Court along with the rugged noggins that once worked the now-defunct Brooklyn piers.

If Rocky has any celebrity himself — and he does; you can tell he’s a fixture because of the number of people who stop in to say hello — it’s the unassuming kind. He’s got an old-school barber chair the likes of which I haven’t seen in thirty-plus years (which I now covet), and the easy manner of a man who isn’t waiting around for other people to tell him whether he’s any good or not.

Over the years, one of Rocky’s more notable neighborhood clients was Truman Capote. In fact, after Capote moved across the East River to Manhattan he kept coming back to see Rocky several times a week. After only a few minutes in Rocky’s chair it’s easy to see why. Rocky’s personable, funny, sincere and committed to his craft. Not the kind of person you tend to run into much, no matter what the task or occasion.

Had anyone ever offered me the choice of meeting either Truman Capote or Rocco Scali, I would have taken Rocky — and not just because I needed a hair cut. I know what it’s like to be a writer. I don’t know what it’s like to be a barber for a neighborhood for fifty years, but having met Rocky I have an inkling of what that means.

In the press reports I’ve read about Rocky he’s referred to as Truman Capote’s barber, but I think that’s backwards — and I think Capote would agree. Rocky wasn’t Truman Capote’s barber any more than Rocky is my barber. We were both his clients, and the better for it.

$15 for a half-hour appointment, plus tip. No extra charge for the straight razor.

— Mark Barrett

Filed Under: ~ Tangents Tagged With: Brooklyn, Capote, Truman

On Willow Street

August 9, 2010 By Mark Leave a Comment

I am a pigeon. A big-city pigeon.

I am walking. Another pigeon is walking behind me. We are looking for food.

When I stop walking you may notice I stand with one foot up, as if I am injured. When I walk, you may notice that I am dragging a small branch with me.

The branch is stuck to my foot. I don’t know why it’s stuck to my foot, but it is. I am dragging it around with me when I walk, and holding it up off the ground when I rest.

I walk in a straight line, just back from the curb. The pigeon behind me wanders. If you stop to look at me and my branch I will walk around you and continue in a straight line.

If you move in front of me again I will stop and wait to see if you leave. If you don’t leave I will wait longer. If the other pigeon sees something to eat lying on the sidewalk in your shadow I will run to the food and eat.

If you come too close I will fly a few feet away. I won’t fly any farther than I would otherwise, but you will see the little branch is not keeping me grounded.

If you stay back just a bit more, I will stop and hold my foot up. If you move around you will be able to see my foot, but you will not be able to see what is keeping the branch attached. It may be a wire. It may be that one of my toes is stuck through a split in the branch. I don’t know.

If you stay where you are, I will stay where I am. If you wait, I will wait, too.

And I will look at you and you will look at me and I will look at you and you will look at me and I will look at you and you will look at me and I will look at you and you will look at me and I will look at you.

— Mark Barrett

Filed Under: Fiction, Non Sequiturs Tagged With: Brooklyn

Why the Internet Rocks

August 5, 2010 By Mark Leave a Comment

I was out and about conducting business today, when I happened past a storefront that had some interesting art in the front window. On closer inspection the images turned out to be part of a work-in-progress graphic novel, and I was taken by what I saw.

I didn’t have time to loiter, however, so I looked around until I found a URL for the artist. Unfortunately, while I had a pad of paper, I’d forgotten a pen so I couldn’t write it down. Because I don’t use a cell phone or PDA or electronic placenta of any kind I had to rely on memory to remember as much as I could, and I did my best.

Five hours later, when I finally got around to trying to look up the URL, the ol’ memory banks were pretty much empty. But here’s the thing. In less that three minutes I was still able to locate the artist’s site with this basic search.

But enough about me. Here’s Laura Lee’s site.

Enjoy.

— Mark Barrett

Filed Under: ~ Tangents, Publishing Tagged With: Brooklyn, Laura Lee Gulledge, life