Hair

This evening, I was quite fortunate to be able to see a musical. Now, I normally hate musicals because they lack plot and I usually find the lyrics to be more hindering than beneficial, but I saw one of the most classic (and controversial) musicals of the decade I wish I was a part of.

Because who doesn't like love, hair, America, tribes, and rock music?

"Hair" is a musical set in 1967 New York, during the peak of the Hippie Movement. I won't go into too much depth about the details of the story, because I believe it's something to be experienced rather than informed of, but I want to talk about how fantastic the show was.

The show was fantastic. Strong music, an energetic cast, the audience was into it... It was entertaining on so many levels. It dealt with really strong themes such as astrology, religion, transcendentalism, politics, war, drugs, and sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex. It was glorious.

One of the main characters, Claude, gets drafted for the Vietnam war. Now, I understand this is 2011 and not 1967, but I was (and still am, sometimes) very worried when I filled out my draft registration. I am quite scared of being drafted. During one of the scenes, they go to a Be-In and many men begin to burn their draft cards. Low, strong drums and deep red hues from the lights filled the stage. There was whooping and hollering and ululation loud enough to hurt my ears. It was the most intense feeling I have ever been given by a theatrical performance in my life. It brought out something primal! It was so strong.

It was a perfect mirror of what that movement was. It was powerful, it was peaceful, but it was strong. It was free, it was energetic, but it was serene. It was controversial, it was symbolic, but it was straightforward. It had all of the attributes that the late 60s had, all the way down to the tragic ending.

"Untitled"
The cold black metal of a gun barrel glares in the sunlight.
As the soldier's finger traces the trigger
As uncertainly as a lover caresses his partner for the first time.
Sweat drops from the bridge of his nose as his bright, mature blue eyes
Meet the warm, brown irises of a young girl.
Her bright green dress is the grass itself
And her dark skin is the soil from which it reaches.
She smiles as she meets the barrel of the gun.
No fear.
She take a single, simple, white flower from her hair
And slips it into the vicious maw of the weapon that stares her down.
The soldier hesitates for but a moment, until he hears the command.
The furious word still echoes in his ears.
"Fire."
The soldier hears a bell ring as the smile of the woman twitches once
As she drops to the ground.
The grass is stained with the deep red of life, now lost.
White petals fly through the air,
Over the metal.
Over the soil.
Covering the soldier.
Covering the mouth of War
Covering the woman.