My Moustache

One of the great features of my life is that I have structured it such that I can grow a moustache with impunity. No one dares defy my right to grow a moustache, and I have been met with great support from all sides since the day of its coronation. That being said, I did not grow a moustache in order to reap admiration; no, I grew my moustache because I felt that it would help me to define a marked change in my attitude and behaviour towards the strange mishap that is life on earth. This it has done, and so much so that I believe the great scholars who in the future take it upon themselves to write my biographies will have no choice but to divide them into two sections: pre-moustache and moustache. Of course, this implies the fact – which, while it might easily be left unsaid, might just as easily be said – that this moustache is here to stay. Make no mistake about it, friends! There is no end for this moustache but my grave!

The happenings of the Earth were a great boon towards the growing of this moustache, as my self-conscious nature probably would not have been so ready to embark on this grand journey if it had not been the case that when I venture out into the Streets, I am free to cover the lower half of my face as I feel fit. In fact, it is mandatory that when I enter the premises of the fabled Fruit Store at which I spend my idle hours, I must cover my moustache so adequately that I imagine most people who meet me have no idea that it even exists! It feels silly for me to say now, after having gained the tremendous boost in confidence that a moustache gives a man, but when this moustache first began, as just a tiny sprout hovering over my upper lip, I did not wish for it to be seen by nobody nohow. Nowadays, I am proud to show it to anyone who is so gracious as to condescend to breathe the same air as myself, which, given the current circumstances of Earth, is not a great many. But in the years to come – make no mistake – I will wear my moustache proudly and with no shame whatsoever!

What is it that makes a moustache? I believe that the essence of a moustache has changed not a whit from the days of yore. Yes, social conditions and fashions change; it is a fact that styles of facial hair are not free from being subject to such whims. However, whether a moustache is in style or not, whether it is frowned upon or adored, whether it is “based” or “cringe,” the inherent nature of the moustache, and the effect that the moustache has on both its wearer and its observers, is always the same. Wearing a moustache today connects me to my ancestors, and their ancestors, all the way to my fiftieth cousins, twelve times removed. I feel as if I am part of a great family, or club, of moustache wearers from history, and what we share goes far beyond some unshaven portion of our body – no, what we share resides deep in our very souls.

Now, why did I grow a moustache? Of course, when I began, I had no idea of what glory of feeling it would bring to me. At the time, I am not sure what was residing in my mind. I do not keep a journal, so any moustache-related musings that may have been present in my mind at such a time are simply gone, and the best I can do is reach back deeply into my memory, which is a tactic that oft meets with little success. If I try, I might discover that the beginnings of my moustache were simply an accident, or a jolly jest. It may have been that while shaving one day, I simply forgot that portion of my face, and later, having realized it that it was right under my nose the whole time, decided that I may as well give it some time to see how it turned out.

What I do remember is that for the first weeks and months, I was very suspicious and unsure of my moustache. It seemed such a fragile, weak little thing, struggling just to stay alive. Every day I took a razor in my hand and stood before the mirror, turning my head this way and that, considering. I must admit that it is entirely due to the desperate, pleading grace of my esteemed wife that the moustache survived those first few months. While I have a heart of cold stone, hers is of melted wax, and she simply could not bear to see such a young, innocent being wiped from the Earth so soon after it had been brought into it. She felt sorry for my moustache, and I could not resist her pleas. Lo, the moustache remained.

Over the months, my moustache has grown on me. While all other hairs on my face and chin are whisked away bi-weekly, these chosen follicles are fated not to fade. My moustache is a part of me! It is a part of how I see myself! It is, less importantly, a part of how others see me! I am not the kind of man to grow a moustache for a few months, or even a few years – no, I must prove to the world that I am the kind of man who, once a moustache has found itself upon my face, keeps it there! Yes, I find myself often eating my own hair! Yes, it twists its way into my nose and tickles me! Yes, it bends out of shape, and irritates my skin! It does all those things! Of course it does! But my spleen hurts too, and my heart beats too fast, and my knees ache, and my hands shake, and my stomach is upset more often than its pleased – but that does not cause me to tear these from my body, does it!? No! My body is a conglomeration of horrible beasts that do naught but cause me displeasure – that is its very nature!

But my moustache has more than just a physical presence, and in fact I would say that its physical presence is one of its lesser aspects, dwarved by its grand spiritual presence. All things in this world are simply reflections of metaphysical elements, given form by our notions of space, time, extension, etc etc. While their physical aspects are all that can reach us as stimuli, within our souls we can be touched by the spiritual significance of earthly materials. As such, my moustache, in its true nature, is a powerful being, the significance of whom I can only perceive via what we might term a “feeling.” This feeling is one of peace, security, confidence, well-being, and most importantly, a singular oneness with the world. I am fully sure of my unique nature as a living, feeling being, but at the same time, I understand that as a living, feeling being, I am a part of a greater cosmos comprised of other living, feeling beings, as well as beings that neither live nor feel but are important in their own respects, I’m sure.

When I grew a moustache, it was the end of Old Mike. It was the end of certain worries, struggles, and fears. It was the beginning of brand new worries, brand new struggles, and brand new fears. Transcendental worries, transcendental struggles, transcendental fears! My new identity exists on an entirely separate and higher plane than my previous, and I am daily confronted now with such tasks and responsibilities as would send a normal person running for the safety of their bed. With my new powers, I face them head on! Yes, by this moustache, I am transformed into Balckwell, and Balckwell is on the rise!

I would encourage all of you out there to whom a moustache is a viable option to give it some consideration! Give it a thought! It is not for everybody – nothing is – but it may be for a lot more people than current “fashionistas” pretend. Do not forget that it is their job to tell you how you should present yourself, and if that in itself does not give you pause, then I do not even know how you found yourself browsing this particular web page!

A moustache is a beautiful thing! My moustache gives me strength and vitality! My moustache gives me joy! It gives joy to all around me! It is a wholly positive force in this world! It is regal and magnificent! It is charming and dazzling! It is rustic and personable! It is all these things, to all people! I can’t think of anything better!

Author: Balckwell

welcome to my pleasure dome

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