A disgruntled agent had been bombarding me with insults about the photographs on my biography pages. He's spent a great deal of time examining my life.
He even spammed me with things I didn't know about myself, such as Wikipedia articles about my life.
This is the new 53 year old blonde.
The girls at the hotel, where I played the piano, The French Quarter Inn, loved it. The old hotel shut down last month. Maybe it was because of my hair. I played there for seven years on Monday afternoons. They said the hair made me look like somewhere between Barry Manilow and Nicholas Cage.
He got miffed because I sent a reply to an email that he sent Sunday bawling me out for posting ten (which he referred to as twenty) blog posts last Sunday. He said I was knocking other agents out of the queue. I replied, and explained, that what he didn't understand was that I draft my posts during the week and post on Sundays up to the Blog limit. I called him a pest, that his email was rude and that I get a raw email from an agent about once every six weeks or so.
Thus began the barrage of immature insults.
I recently began a series on real estate math for agents and real estate professionals. The ill-mannered, low bred agent said that if he wanted a math refresher he'd sign up for one, as though all Active Rain articles had to be posted according to his criteria and for his personal benefit, or they shouldn't be posted at all.
I suppose some of you have wondered what I look like as opposed to the black and white photo associated with my profile. Here are some of the images past and present.
And here's is my hair in all of it's glory. I hope you'll see that I'm a guy that can laugh with others when they're laughing at me. I've got a pretty good sense of humor, so I want to put to rest the state of sulky dissatisfaction that the stalker is contending with.
My hair's been evolving over the years with subtle nuances, highlights, shades of grey, brown, blonde and green. Guess it comes with film and music. I'm currentlly a 56 year old blonde with shades of gray. It hasn't affected my realtor board.
I thought it would be fun to show you how my hair's evolved over the last twenty years, and hear what you think. The creepy agent said that I looked like a crazy man and I'm just a has-been that has too much time on his hands. Isn't that rude?
It was a nice day and I was feeling pretty chipper. The sun was shining, gas prices weren't too high. The air was sweet and the birds were singing. I felt pretty good and the world seemed to be at peace, and not in pieces. We hadn't been trashed yet by credit crunches, subprime problems, failed investment banks, oil piracy or alopecia. I didn't have any grievances, grudges or complaints to rain on the parade.
Let's move backwards a few years to Rhodes College and my student disk jockey days. The music was great, the campus life was cool, and the hair was short.
I'm sitting at the console of the radio station during my radio show. Now this day was a little different because a back hoe, that was excavating behind the building, pulled the transmitting antenna through the wall when it ran over it. Luckily, my hair wasn't standing on end because of the high voltage danger.
The one of me at the piano (below right) was taken in 1994. I had more hair to pull then. I was 170 pounds and a bicycling maniac (which I still enjoy)
Maybe he just wanted to see the rest of me. :-)
The realtor board hasn't complained about my hair yet and neither have my friends, neighbors or the other agents in my office. The students at the real estate school I work for even said they liked it. Although I needed highlights for the gray :-) My barber (who only knows for sure) said that I need to join the club, get old, and be like the rest of the guys. I told him, of course, that blondes have more fun.
Below is another at the Steinway. I had just finished a cycling run and sat down to practice for three of four hours. Hence the scantily dressed long haired David. (I have cycle shorts on, by the way, in spite of the bare legs).
A ex-girlfriend also tried to convince me that I could have more fun as a blonde. I'm not certain that I agree.
Now we come to the mane. I was really in my club stomping, wild musician, serenading bard, psuedo-intellectual phase of living. This rare pic was taken about twenty years ago, or so. My hair kind-of looks like that now, just blonde.
I spent so much time with the piano back then that I rarely if ever thought about a haircut. Besides, one of my best friends at the time was a girl who managed a salon at the Peabody Hotel here in Memphis. She routinely cut hair for musicians like Billy Joel, Steve Miller, Paul McCartney, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and many others, when they stayed at the Peabody. She never wanted me to cut my shaggy mane.
Although she did manage to get a hold on me back in 1997 and you can see what happened on the right. She didn't want David Saks....she wanted Michael Bolton.
If my hair makes me a crazy man, I suppose my toenails make me sane.
This one (on the left) was taken about six years ago while I was having a pensive moment on a patio at a friends home. I was thinking about all of the great food on the patio under the awning.
Finally, Mommy and me
with the hair the Lord gave me when I was one year old.
So there you have it. The evolution of my hair and what I really look like. I suppose I've looked the rock musician role. I've had a couple of film appearances, including a science fiction film that required my hair to be a little different. I played a ufo investigator, can you believe that ?
I wonder if the agent has an inferiority complex. Perhaps he's infatuated with me, has now become a stalker, or has too much time on his hands ? I've asked him to stop emailing me or I'd contact his realtor board. He finally crawled up, slinked away and went back into his hole.
Any suggestions ?
I'd like to hear from you. Which hair do you like ? :-)
ps...here's a little piece of music I wrote for your enjoyment
and I'm old, grey haired and loving it. Have a fine Labor Day holiday: