I've been included in a Minnesota anthology "Under Purple Skies", now available on Amazon!

My second chapbook, "The Second Book of Pearl: The Cats" is now available as either a paper chapbook or as a downloadable item. See below for the Pay Pal link or click on its cover just to the right of the newest blog post to download to your Kindle, iPad, or Nook. Just $3.99 for inspired tales of gin, gambling addiction and inter-feline betrayal.

My first chapbook, I Was Raised to be A Lert is in its third printing and is available both via the PayPal link below and on smashwords! Order one? Download one? It's all for you, baby!

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Everything’s Starting to Click…

I got an e-mail this week from an old friend bemoaning the gradually-increasing strength of his “forgeterrer” and the fact that his “rememberer” is broken.

As someone who has repeatedly voted against the aging process – and I think the record will bear me out on this – I must say that this has not been my experience. My rememberer is working just fine, thank you; and except for the occasional confusing foray from one room to another only to find myself standing in front of an open refrigerator for no discernible reason, I remain in full control of all of my faculties.

Hee hee. Had you going there, didn’t I? Oh, come on. Play along, and let’s pretend that we’re not all getting older!

I have an acquaintance who, according to his friends, has not changed one bit since graduating from high school. Still the partying frat boy. This is not as charming as you’d think. Just to get under his skin a bit, I mentioned the concept of “middle age” to him. Heartily offended, he said that he was absolutely not middle aged. “You’re 32,” I said, “Just how long are you going to live?”

So maybe 32 is not as middle-aged as, say, 35 or 40, but one is certainly moving towards checking a different box in the demographic information sheets at this point. And apart from the ability to lose weight easier in one’s younger days, what’s the big deal? Would you ever go back to the hormonal, hyper days of your youth? Not in a million years. I was an impetuous, bewildered nutcase in my 20s (and 30s and…). I barely made it through the first time and that was before cell phones, FaceBook, and rampant tattoos. Can you imagine what kind of horrors I escaped just by not having those things available?

It’s just now, comfortably, almost comatosely in my 40s, that things are really starting to click for me. And I’m not just talking about my knees and neck here. I mean that things are beginning to make sense. What a relief! I guess in the long run I’d rather have it this way – being confused in the beginning and then gaining clarity as I go along – than the other way around…

Wait a minute. What was I just going on about? Something about clarity or something.

Oh, well. Whatever it was, I’m sure I’ll remember eventually. In the meantime, I’m going to step into the kitchen for a bit, just to check out what’s in the fridge. Let me know if I can get you anything.

No comments: