Acting your age??

Funny,

I turned forty-eight,

a little less than two months ago,

that is advancing middle age,

and,

yet.

Some days,

I feel twenty,

as if my adult life,

is just beginning,

so much to do,

to see,

to experience,

to learn,

a babe in the woods,

who will learn,

to sew,

to sail,

to fly fish,

to knit,

who will travel to Paris,

several times,

who will drive across,

the continent,

who will,

get my driver’s licence soon,

😛

who will sit by a campfire,

and,

enjoy roasted,

weenies,

good espresso,

and,

the sound of bullfrogs.

I have nothing but time,

right?

To read all the classics,

I long to read,

to write the many books,

I have percolating in my mind,

to laugh and love,

and,

live life to it’s fullest.

…and some days,

I feel like I’m ninety,

and,

every bit,

of my body hurts,

as though my spirit,

has been broken,

as if cynicism,

has taken over,

my life view,

that the world,

is run,

by,

and,

for,

money,

and,

what difference can I make,

anyway.

That I haven’t done most,

of the things,

I dreamt of doing,

and,

that maybe I will run,

out of time.

Sometimes,

I’m lovably rambuctious,

and,

full of piss and vinegar,

other times,

I’m a nasty grouchy,

old fart.

I guess I’m both,

acting my age,

an age,

of still so much,

hope and promise,

and,

such miserable fears and doom.

It ain’t always easy,

my friends,

I go from,

enthusiasm,

at great books,

and luminous movies,

to thinking everything,

is derivative and been done.

I’ll read a romance and think,

wow,

love does conquer all,

and,

the next day,

I’ll think,

Hobbes was right about,

man’s nasty brutish state,

sigh, sigh, sigh.

The hot humid weather,

gets to me,

makes me act like a jerk,

and,

in a few months,

I’ll be bitching,

about freezing my ass off.

Acting your age,

what’s up with that??

I am  so young,

and,

so old,

all at once,

I’m everyone,

and,

no clear one,

an individual in a sea of same.

I flee assimilation,

and,

yet, isn’t resistance futile,

aren’t we all one big,

collective,

hive mind??

Nah,

that’s the damp speaking,

resistance and persistence,

are never futile,

rage against the dying of the light.

Still tons to do,

still lots of fire,

in the mind,

in the belly,

screw the fear,

act my age?

I think not

🙂

Thanks for reading the meandering ramblings of a crazy and mutating bookish butch.

Later girls,

BB

 

Published by

Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my very early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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