Nonculture

I’ll tell you one thing; sake does not stay hot for long.  That shit is annoying.  I’m tired of reheating the shit, so it’s back to Asbach and coke for the night. 

I think most of the guys I know, myself included, are going through the mid-life crisis.  But there’s a lot of weird shit about that, especially since it hasn’t been redefined since the last 1970’s Corvette ad.  It’s not like that now, and it happens before you are 40.  Acceleration of culture and all that shit.  And yeah, nobody wants a goddamn ‘Vette anymore.  And we aren’t really skirt chasing either.  Sure, we think about young, tight ass, but the allure is fleeting, pleasant; like the thought of a trip to strip club is, or how driving the latest 6 series would be when one passes us would be is.  But a strip club is out of the way, expensive, and somewhat of a pain in the ass, and a 6 series is expensive and impractical – both are hard to justify in daylight.  It’s not a genuine pursuit. 

We’re half dead; we know it, we accept it.  It’s ok.  We’re not trying to fight it off with sports cars or silicone face slaps these days.  But we are trying to accept it with the proper grace.

Ah, but what is the proper grace these days?  That is what we are trying to find out.  We’re bouncing around like pinballs between depression, rounds of golf, trips to Vegas that are disappointing,  hours spent at poker tables winning or losing (doesn’t matter), fishing, fuck – whatever – we’re fucking searching for what drove us when we were young.  The thing we don’t realize is that when we were young it was blind ambition, the world was wide open – it could be a career, rock star, family, lottery, all at the same impossible, improbable time.  Because we were young and naïve, aka stupid.  Now we have some mix and/or one of whatever of those.  And we wonder what might have been.  Even more importantly, it was ok NOT to have ambition and just be – it was ok to just live and see what happened.  I would be lying if I said I never thought about trying that shit – just being – traveling on a shoestring budget and going whichever way the wind blew, but I know where that road goes.  I’d be writing this on a 2 by 3 memo spiral memo pad from a bench at the bus station with the plastic from the tip of my shoelace if I tried that shit now.  And I’d smell like ass, but you know how it is.

Not that I speak for everybody, of course.  There are those who take risks.  I’ can understand the guy who divorces his wife and kicks the kids to the curb and gets a phat crib downtown to nail some hot talent every night. You gotta look good to try that one though.  Keep trim at Metro Muscle.  Wear expensive dark striped shirts and Lucky Jeans from Park Ave and leather sandals.  Your sideburns and smartly spiked hair should only be done by boutiques from within a 5 mile radius of Thornton Park.  Find a good coke dealer.  If you aren’t individually wealthy enough to tan during the day, self tan at an artificial place, but be sure that it looks natural, because people in that scene can tell the difference between a real tan (money) and a fake tan (has to work).  One misstep can cause a crisis in your carefully planned 2^nd adolescence.

You see, crisis comes in all forms, whether you are sitting on a bench at the bus station, or on your Adirondack on your 2 Million studio balcony overlooking Lake Eola.

The difference is definition of crisis.  To the person at the Waverly on their Adirondack, crisis is dropping a precious Chihuahua into the bushes next to a Mercedes AMG, where the Chihuahua might not feel comfortable because he prefers to only ride in Porches.  Whereas, to the person at the bus station, the crisis is the anal raping that could include getting A.I.D.S.  It’s always important to see things from both perspectives, and the lesson here is that from the perspective of near middle aged guys, they have it tough, but not as tough as near middle aged guys in the 70’s, because they all had to buy Corvettes. 

So shut up about that beating and raping, poor bus station person.  We all have our problems.  Jesus.