Thanks for all the birthday wishes, I really do appreciate them.
Lots of folks had questions, so here are the answers in no particular order:
She gets the birthdays spankings, and yes, they still count. Harriet is the woman from the Comcast commercials advertising theirn new business internet service. Yes, I am fucking old.
The funny thing is, I still feel like I'm in my twenties. Mentally, anyway. My soul feels the years, and my body feels them, too. It seems like just yesterday I was running from the cops and raising hell with my friends. I remember some events like they happened last week. The last fifeteen years have flown by so fast I almost feel cheated.
The truth is, I am living in the last half of my life. I find myself guessing the age of the girl who makes my mochas, then realizing the answer means she could be my daughter. Kinda takes the fun out of flirting. I find myself thinking about my mom's health, knowing that at some point her welfare will become my responsibility. I catch myself paying attention to ads for cholestrol medication, blood pressure medication, and even wondering if I should start taking an aspirin a day, just to be safe.
I also start wondering if I'm too old for this place.
The old rocker wore his hair too long
Wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end
Drank his ale too light
Death's head belt buckle, yesterday's dreams
The transport cafe prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
In his post-war-baby gloom
Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll, but he's too young to die
He once owned a Harley Davidson
And a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
And prays that he always will
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
All of his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars
And meet at the tennis club do's
For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes
Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die
So the old Rocker gets out his bike
To make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
Just like it used to be
And as he flies, tears in his eyes
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake
And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll, but he was too young to die
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die
-Jethro Tull
Lots of folks had questions, so here are the answers in no particular order:
She gets the birthdays spankings, and yes, they still count. Harriet is the woman from the Comcast commercials advertising theirn new business internet service. Yes, I am fucking old.
The funny thing is, I still feel like I'm in my twenties. Mentally, anyway. My soul feels the years, and my body feels them, too. It seems like just yesterday I was running from the cops and raising hell with my friends. I remember some events like they happened last week. The last fifeteen years have flown by so fast I almost feel cheated.
The truth is, I am living in the last half of my life. I find myself guessing the age of the girl who makes my mochas, then realizing the answer means she could be my daughter. Kinda takes the fun out of flirting. I find myself thinking about my mom's health, knowing that at some point her welfare will become my responsibility. I catch myself paying attention to ads for cholestrol medication, blood pressure medication, and even wondering if I should start taking an aspirin a day, just to be safe.
I also start wondering if I'm too old for this place.
The old rocker wore his hair too long
Wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end
Drank his ale too light
Death's head belt buckle, yesterday's dreams
The transport cafe prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
In his post-war-baby gloom
Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll, but he's too young to die
He once owned a Harley Davidson
And a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
And prays that he always will
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
All of his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars
And meet at the tennis club do's
For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes
Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die
So the old Rocker gets out his bike
To make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
Just like it used to be
And as he flies, tears in his eyes
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake
And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll, but he was too young to die
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die
-Jethro Tull
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
(By the way, in case you hadn't noticed, you're one of the few people around here with the sense God promised a horse, which may or may not have something to do with the number of years you've been on this planet. There's a reason the auto insurance companies drop your rates dramatically after you hit 25.)