One time
See I decided I was gonna do this thing. This isn’t going to be my usual blog entry about politics, ’80s pop icons, books, random quotations, or bits of gossip. This is about me. You see, tomorrow is my birthday, September first. I’ll be 33. A big year for me, as I don’t think most of you know. I’m not even sure if any of you know. But anyway, a big year for me partly because for quite a long time now I’ve had a feeling, irrational I know, that I’m not going to survive it. Where did I get this idea? Well believe it or not, it comes from John Belushi. 33 is the age he was when he died, and even though there are at least as many differences between us as things we have in common, that little bit of data has always stayed with me and I’ve long identified with him in a weird kind of way.
33 is also the age when Jesus is supposed to have died, but I’ve never been very religious, and we won’t even get into Chris Farley. But most of you who know me at all well know that my life is not at all where I would like it to be, where I once thought it could have been. I see myself more often than not, more than I should, as a sad person. And I feel sometimes like a lot of the troubles I have in life have been because people mistook the sadness for something else. Fear, too. Which I guess is true of everyone but it doesn’t help me much knowing that. I want to figure out ways to get where I want to go but all I see is walls, either real or those imposed by my particular little psychic mess. And speaking of psychic messes: One or two of you know that I have never known my father. Well, I recently found out there’s a better than 50% chance he’s a “psychic” loon conning people in the SF Bay Area. Yes, it’s possible my father is A. Crazy, B. A con man or C. Both. My good friend Danny said it’s a good thing we’re not our parents. He’s right. Still, but without ..aw shit, I always kinda hoped he’d be cool and/or rich. But I guess everybody does.
Written at three AM, proofread once but not corrected otherwise.
