Old and in the way

I was messing with a younger middle aged guy at the donut shop last week for a minor infraction and he got seriously aggrieved. I tried to tell him that it was play but he wasn't having it. Steve wondered if it would come to fisticuffs and he says to me, "Does he know that you are a senior citizen?"

I looked at him and it was like a thunder clap. Senior citizen, what the fuck is he talking about? Then it hit me. I will be sixty nine in November, does that mean that I am now old? I guess it does. I was shaken, not by the pouty dickface, who I would still punch in the mouth if necessary no matter how old I might be, but by the realization that shit, I am old.

You see, as a married guy with no kids and two cats I have basically been able to remain an emotional infant for most of my life or at least not succumb to those dark forces that subtly turn you in to your parents. I have basically been able to live my life on my terms, according to my script and in many ways, at least in my business, I am one of the last ones standing.

But, sobering as it was, after a quick self assessment, what he was saying was really not too far off the mark. I am old. Everything is starting to hurt. I had two people this week tell me that I was limping, something I had not realized I was doing.

My left knee has been bone on bone and seriously arthritic since 1979, when I had the anterior cruciate, medial collateral and meniscus meltdown.  It hurts to walk, let alone go up and down my stairway. I am seriously overweight, yesterday Ray asked me, "Who made your shirts, Omar the tentmaker?"

The cardiologist called last week, or her N.P. anyway and tried to talk to me about all sorts of things that would prolong my due date on terra firma. Statins, and this and that, did I know my ventricle was abnormally thick, yadda yadda ya? And I said, call me in a month, I can't deal right now, I have a little chemo issue with my bladder, one crisis at a time and hung up on him.

They really do care more than I do. I have always felt that I wanted a full life and not necessarily a long life and I have had one. Been living on borrowed time and extra credits since I was fourteen and they first gave me the three days to live. Ha, fooled you.

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The blast is in its 18th year or is it the 19th? I will have to look at the side panel and count.

Ridiculous number of views and ridiculous number of posts, well over 14, 000. As Wagman said yesterday, the equivalent of about 500 books. I was toying with the idea of doing a hardbound coffee table book of my people shots from Long Beach Flea Market. I pulled about 400 pictures out of lightroom and stuck them in a new catalogue yesterday. Some great ones. Thought about adding antique show portraits too but don't think so. Wonder if people would buy the book?

Might try to self publish, who knows? Or forget about it.

 One of the analytic tools on the blast lets me see what people are reading. This week they are going back to 2010, a nifty little number called From the Railbird's perch, handicapping the gubernatorial election.

I decided to re-read it and thought, damn that was pretty good.  And wondered for a moment if I had lost a literary step? And honestly, I don't think so. 2010 I was what, 53?

But what has changed from those early days is the spirited feedback I got from you guys, frankly that has gone to hell. I miss Window Dancer, and KJ, who kept things spicy by making stuff up and throwing an occasional bomb, Helen, Grumpy, as pain in the ass as he was, conservative commenters like MWB and Bloodthirsty liberal who kept things legit, my late Uncle Norm, E, Roy Cohen, a lot of people who made the comments section a very lively place.

What happened? People got old, moved away, died, lost interest, who knows? The blogger format has been pre-empted about a million ways since I started, you are reading a real dinosaur. Maybe yu all left for Instagram?

But I think the main thing was that I stopped letting anonymous assholes tee off on me and I started vetting my comments. It shut things down pretty tight and now I get to hear my voice echo in the cave. 

I wistfully think that if I had gone the youtube video route and became an influencer I would be rolling in dough right now, like Meidas Touch  or somebody like that. But it would have got real boring, no food, no music, just horrible divisive politics 24/7 and we probably all would have lost interest. 

I think I can still make a huge file copy of the blast. Remind me to give it to one of you so that it can be recreated if I were ever to slip on a banana peel and check out. Would be a shame to see it completely vaporize, wouldn't it.

Many of you have been with me here the whole time, thank you friends.