I wrote a blog yesterday about an old woman who has been using plastic surgery and botox to allow her “staying young” delusion to live longer.
And it got me thinking.
How are we aging?
Due to Facebook, I am more in touch with people I went to high school and even grade school with than at any other time in my life, including when I was in school.
And it has been interesting to see the lives that have gone on.
But some of us are not aging well.
Throw me into that pit as well.
I don’t think I have hit fugly, but I have lost my boyish good looks as time marches on.
And time is marching on like the fricking Bataan Death March for a lot of us.
I think the thing that shocks me the most is not the grey hair that I seem to be losing the battle to, but the aches and pains that are accumulating.
I bent over to pick something up the other day and I made a groan that my great grandfather made in the 70’s, complete with a hand on my lower back.
I am getting old.
I would say old and tired, but I drink too much coffee to be classified as tired.
Dylan Thomas said this:
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Everyone up to speed with their metaphors?
I will raise a stink.
Ungentle or otherwise.
I will fight, scratch and claw when the shit goes down, just to make sure my final legacy is not a victim.
And do me a favor?
If you see them coming for me, and we all know who they are, do something about it if you see them carrying me down the street in a big mob.
And THAT, is a beautiful, crazy, paranoid line.
Maybe that is what this blog is all about.
The last of my childish angst, raging against the death of youth.
Or possibly just a childish vent in print.
Take your pick.
Should you rage against the inevitable?
Does it do any good?
Hell, blogging might just be this generation’s outraged poets.
Taking the untamed angst of societal outrage and filtering it into the raw product of mental/emotional revolution!
Makes me sound pretty good, doesn’t it?
Or was it just really dumb?
I think it raises the bar on the intellectual front.
I am on top of the elitist intellectual heap.
Which one of you pukes can knock me off?
Back to be a high end poetic revolutionary.
Me and Ol’ Dylan, kindred souls, doncha know?
Ah hell, I can’t back that up.
Sometimes, things are exactly what they seem.
And this is just a snotty little blog that makes fun of people, places, and situations.
So its not Shakespeare.
But when was the last time you read Romeo and Juliet everyday before work?
And Shakespeare never tried to make you shoot coffee out of your nose?
But I do.