Yesterday being my 50th birthday, the approach of which has been causing such angst since the 49th and almost assuredly quite a bit longer, you’d think I’d have had something to say about it on the actual occasion. But, well, fuck that. The day itself doesn’t actually matter when you get this old, I figure, as long as you do something suitably celebratory sooner or later.
Back in January I thought a good time would be going out to some private land somewhere with a bunch of good friends, a stack of partially- or totally-dead TVs, and a few firearms of assorted caliber and spend some hours blasting holes in the second with the third. I’ve never shot a TV before and I gotta say I feel my life’s lacking some for it. I wanted to make a recording of Bush saying You’re either with us or against us in a loop and blow a big hole in the screen right in the middle of it. That’s what I consider Texas-style justice.
But I don’t own a gun anymore, and none of my friends do or even know how to shoot, and the sheer logistics of such an event made me put the idea on the back burner. Then I got a bug up my ass about leaving Austin and the fire on the burner went out completely. But no mind – taking the kind of road trip I’m about to is the perfect turning-50 gift to myself, and even fun with firearms pales next to it.
It’ll be a pretty solitary celebration, true, but that’s how I roll these days. Ten years ago I brought together friends from all different sectors of my life for dinner and that was OK, that seemed like the right thing to do then. I couldn’t imagine doing the same today – I haven’t made many friends in Austin and have kept even fewer and I have the horrible suspicion that I would look around the table and see only strangers. If you’re one of those people reading this, please don’t be hurt – it’s not you, it’s me.
Anyway, the day in question is now passed and I’m into my 51st year and, with any luck, will spend a lot less time during it looking into the rearview than I’ve become accustomed to in this last phase of my life.
Uh… that’s a metaphor. I’ll be driving too much, and am too conscientious a driver, to do anything but use the mirror frequently. But you get the idea. It’s a new part of life beginning, and I’m happier than I can convey about that.
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