Break It Down

Let me begin by apologizing for the interruption of the regularly scheduled broadcast. Many writers I know would have slogged through their current head space and churned out second rate product. I am not that guy.... anymore. I used to be that guy when I wrote for radio and television. It never mattered if I was in to this weeks lawyer's suck skit, I had to write it, and write it I did.

Now I have a bit more luxury since I am the head of this venture. I can do what I want, and today I do not feel classy, sophisticated or mature.

Some might say that is the perfect mindset for my type of writing, and those people would be correct. I score a certain level of hit with my juvenile sense of humour. Boobies. And it provides me with smelly farts and a comfortable warm feeling (haha) that someone, somewhere finds me the slightest bit entertaining, but it is cold comfort to me right now.

The problem with my head space is that it is not what you would call a happy go lucky immature rambling combines with eye opening pseudo spirituality place. It is more the self punishing, you're no good because you are old and still acting like a child sort of mind scape.






Next week I turn old. Very Old. Ridiculously old. It is not just one of those fake old numbers that people look at and go aha! yer old, here's your old guy mug, you' geezer hat and have a happy birthday. This one is for realz.

I turn 35.

I can't believe I just admitted that out loud and on the internets. There it is kids, I am old and there is no turning back or denying it.





There are such things as desired demographics. Generally speaking the 18-34 demographic is wanted because they are impressionable and have tons of disposable cash. They are also trendy and hip. They are the ones people think are cool because they are young, beautiful and influential among their peer group. These people are in to the pop musics and the rock and or roll thing. They have ideas and are go getters. They have energy, they have youth and they have balls.

In one week I go from that to being old.

The next demographic is called 35 to dead of natural causes. This new demographic is for people who are old and set in their ways. All of the sudden they listen to new country and Celine Dion. They have little spare time, even less energy and never seem to come up with anything new. These people are considered lucrative because they buy the big ticket items, but otherwise no one gives a crap what they think other than politicians since these are the people who vote. Yes that's right kids, these people are the reason politics is the way they are.... so that's cool right?

I am about to join people who are marking time towards their doom. I am about to become the old guy.

I can no longer feel good about listening to rock music. Breaking Benjamin does not make me cool, it makes me the old guy who tries to look cool.

I have to stop watching The Daily Show because it is for younger people who are cutting edge thinkers. The Colbert Report too.

Here's the thing that is troubling me. As an old dude, I am a failure. I am not set in my ways, I do not have a job that is going to provide for my retirement. I do not have savings or a portfolio.

I have no assets or prospects.

I am merely an old overweight fool who pines for shit he cannot have.

Here's where I get all sad about this writing thing. I am the guy who has always dreamed, like all young people do. I have dreamed of being a writer and making a difference. I have dreamed of helping people get clean. I have dreamed of helping kids escape their destinies and find new paths.

I have dreamed these dreams of the young, and I am still dreaming because something keeps me from grabbing that brass ring.

Over a week ago I wrote a glowing email about my writing and why literary agents should pick me up and shop my brainchildren around. It is full of grandeur, insight and persuasive salesmanship.

I did not hit send.

I cannot hit send.

I am afraid to hit send.

Now I am afraid I am about to become old without a single dream coming true.

There was a time in my life, actually three times in my life, when I never thought I would make it to old. The first time was when I was underneath a park bench. You can read about that here. The second time was when I was all strung out and completely messed up on the drugs. You can read about that here. The final time was when I was misdiagnosed as having liver damage that was going to kill me before I was 35. Clearly, unless I suddenly drop dead (which according to my biofeedback after having tried jogging today may happen) in the next week was incorrect.

I have never thought about the future because the future was never going to happen. Who cares about the future when there is a here and now to live in.

I am thinking that there might be a future. If I have survived this long there is little reason to think it is not going to continue. Apart from the actual problem with my liver, which is easily controlled by diet, I am ridiculously healthy. Despite all the crap I did to my body, and I did a lot of crap, I have a strong healthy heart and lungs that can oxygenate my blood like a damn athlete. I kid you not. I am a large dude with the blood pressure of a damn vegan marathon runner.

My body has betrayed me.

My body has conspired to keep me alive until the future happened.

I am reminded of a song in which the lyric goes, "teenage angst has paid off well/now I'm bored and old." I will give you three guesses as to who wrote that line.

What really sucks is that I am starting to gain some traction in this whole thing, but I can't keep up the happy exterior. I am hitting a breakdown. I am hitting that wall of looking back at what I have done and not being pleased. Then I look to my left and right and don't see what I want. I look forward and it is all a blur, nothing coming in to focus because I am lacking confidence and direction.

I want to be able to write funny. I want to be able to entertain you today, but I would have to wear clown make up to do it, and nobody likes clowns, not even clowns.

So here I am, laying bare to you the situation. I am old. I am not cool. I am sincere. I am trying hard to get somewhere but cock blocking myself. I am lonely. I am bored. I have a million dollar brain with a ten cent self esteem.

I wish I could blame someone for the fact that I am old, but really there is no one to blame but myself. I let this happen. I slacked on the drinking and drugs. I started eating actual food. I started living a normal life. I started exercising for crying out loud.

I am to blame for being old.

Sheesh no I am mad at me.

I guess there is nothing left to do but make some damn lemonade.

Oh good, old people like lemonade.