Suddenly you're missing
Cause to think about reinvention and relaunching. Is there an age where you can't debut yourself? Is it too old to learn new careers, new ideas?
Is it wrong to look in the mirror and still stubbornly see the 17 year old and refuse to acknowledge the 35 year old staring at me?
Do gay men grow up or is it a case of lost boys and Peter Pan?
No identity parade of 'husband', 'father', 'grandfather' generally pervades in this territory, so what are the landmarks?
I don't do birthdays or Christmas, no yearly markers either. Life without roadsigns, driving without white lines.
Living in the day after Tuesday but the day before Wednesday, a calendar full of things that ultimately I'll put a line through and excuse myself from and watch from a distance. Life observed.
"I do it because I choose to", I remember those words, conviction or corruption, it's all the same. Anything means something because of choice, red and blue pills, never ending choosing, reaffirmations, endless.
Everyone else is doing it. OK, panic over.
Small moves Sparks.

This way up
It snowed today. It was 60 degrees yesterday. I think the gods of Global Warming^TM read my recent post.

Don't drop it
So I'm helping someone shift furniture yesterday, a big move, lotsa things going on, controlled chaos really. There is was, entertainment center from hell, why do they always have breakable glass doors in them? So two of us go for it, it was narrow in depth so couldn't really get more than that around it. Lifting it up into the back of the truck the guy in front decides to make a sudden move, my end tips over, wobbles, center of gravity too high, it's gonna go, oh shit, so I lower my end as quickly and safely as possible and the fucking thing cracks me on the nose. Blood everywhere, shit is it broken, seeing stars, fuck don't fall over, fuck that hurt, shit. Everyone rushes over to see, grab some bounty, mop the blood, still seeing stars, feeling nauseous, look in a mirror, nose swelling up...
well, not broken, thank the patron saint of noses (St. Blase apparently) but got a nice one inch gash running down the bridge of my nose.

Moral of the story, don't stick your nose in where it doesn't belong.

So everyone I meet thinks they are the first person to crack the "so how does the other guy look?" joke or ask the "who hit you?" question. Yeah, that got old before it even happened.

Bruised fruit
I've had black eyes and smacked faces for better reasons - there was this crescent kick from my tae kwon-do partner once, left me on the floor for 5 minutes and a split lip and cut cheek, and from the same guy a punch that caught my eyebrow and left me thinking I should take up needlework or something safe. Yeah, I've gotten bruised and cut and I've gotten my partner a couple times and really made up for it. Good times. Which reminds me, I could do with getting sweaty with someone down on the floor. Maybe that's what's wrong. My gym has to be the most boring place I've been to in my life.

But that's a completely different train track of thought.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 19, 2007 at 2:52 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.