beatnikside

I spent most of Friday and Saturday in a foul mood that, with hindsight, I can fully attribute to trifles -- work concerns, money concerns, fears of getting older. That cat won't fight. I've always been fortunate in finding work and keeping my head above water (and I'm always prepared to work; that helps considerably), and as for this business of aging, well, it was gonna happen. I'm 44 years old and only now coming to terms with the fact that life]ends, and could end at any moment. I could be crushed by a goddamn jet engine that's seen "Donnie Darko" one too many times. And I want to be okay with that, you know? I want to come to the end of every single day and say "No, that was the best fucking day ever." I want to spend the rest of my time in this world feeling what is and not lamenting what isn't.

I know, I know -- this is all very basic stuff. Live every day, ask forgiveness instead of permission, dance like no one's paying and so on. But it's one thing to repeat those notions to yourself and something else again to wake up every single day perched on top of the things that would bury you. I very much want to be up there. And though it takes more than it used to get there -- meditation, exercise, Campari -- I will do my best to stay happy, right up to the final.