sitting with friends on a couch.  we’re arguing about healthcare.  someone needs birth control and we’re trying to explain that they can get a gyne exam at a catholic hospital but they won’t write a script for the pill.  it’s different where she’s from so she doesn’t understand.  me and the boys shrug.  we decide to go to a concert.  they complain that a friend of theirs is a nice guy but his goatee is creepy.  i don’t really understand this at all.  the guy is super sweet and reserved.  and when they say goatee, they really mean a scruffy full mustache that ends in teeny twisted handlebar curls.  we go to the concert but i want to be closer so i can see.  we’re in some sort of resort town.  it’s all sunbleached, a huge open bandshell linking to different walkways and balconies and stairs.  it looks like it should be easy to get to the stage but it’s not and i get distracted by one of the relaxation rooms.  i go inside and there is only a television screen and a recliner.  i sit and watch the ocean on the screen.  at first the camera is at the water’s surface, fast small waves rolling by.  but then the camera sinks and i’m watching the pattern of sunlight, lines of waves crossing.  i’m so close to trancing out when i’m interrupted by my friends.  they have great news.  their friend is going to shave his goatee!  i’m furious and angry and sad.  i tell them, “you can’t be serious! tell him not to do it!  it’s his soul, don’t you see?  like an armored bear!  if he shaves it off we’ll lose him.”
they don’t get it.