Tuesday, 3 May 2011

30 YEARS OLD....


On the 25th APRIL I was 30 years old...
or
361 months...1566 weeks or 10964 days!! not that I'm counting...

well not since I read the below piece and it helped bubble wrap my anger a little
and help play to my strengths a little more...also the mention of Gram Parsons and Otis Redding always warms my cold cold heart..

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30 YEARS OLD...

I know what you’re doing. You are freaking out because the number 30 has become that snarling beast in the corner, ready to strike at any moment. Your 20’s are starting to feel like a slippery fish that you just can’t quite hold onto, and you’re preparing yourself for a new lifetime of Friday night romantic comedies and being home in bed by 11PM. I too am turning 30 soon (January fast approaches), so to make myself and you feel better, I thought about the advantages of reaching my forth decade.

Younger Women
Don’t believe the hype, younger women LOVE older men. Most of them are under the impression that you “have your shit figured out” and that you are phenomenal at shagging. Whether this is true or not, your 20’s were filled with enough Space Mountain-esque experiences that helped you gain a confidence and swagger that your 22-year old self wish he had. Remember the time that you were pulling a “Zack Morris” and banging around with two girls at the same party, while your friend’s blew lines of Adderall and watched youtube clips of Rodney Mullen in the adjacent room? Remember the time when your friend got into that car accident while drunk driving and you took the smashed up car and dumped it in a river “Winston Wolf-style” so the cops wouldn’t bust him? Times like that have made you a man, however sleazy and criminal those acts may have been.

You also now realize why women share a love for cowboys, lumberjacks, and Steve McQueen, because these are MEN and not boys. At some point, our culture has grown weary of marketing true masculinity… we’ve lost the love of the leading man, the undeniable ferocity of the warrior has vanished. At one point there was Robert Redford, now all we have left is Michael Cera. Sure, women think the dude from Juno is cute and funny, but they would rather be fucked by Jeremiah Johnson. Just sayin’. Sex and love get better because you are better at being a man.

Music is Better
Sure, you still love Black Flag and E.P.M.D., that shit will always be true and ring inside of you like a ferocious beast. However, you then start to get affected by some melodic deep shit, mainly jams that are ultimately helpful with doing the nasty and spending your Friday nights getting high and being nostalgic with the closest of homies. You have spent your teens and twenties building your dynamite record collection and punching people out at Cro-Mag’s shows, now you start to become a bit of a romantic. Love songs and tunes about courage start to sound way better to you. “Baby Blue” by Badfinger begins to tug art your heartstrings and you realize that true importance of Gram Parsons, Otis Redding, and Harry Nilsson. You start to understand music as communication, Al Green croons the first dance at your friend’s wedding, you drink whiskey with Leonard Cohen on the day that the first of your friends pass away, and you rock to the pulse of “Mother Sky” by CAN as you and your buddies drive through Laurel Canyon with a fresh bag of herbals, giving the rest of the living world one big “Eat My Fuck”. Music begins to make you smarter and more appreciative of friends, family, love, and drugs. You get on some next level shit. You have grown up.

Parties are way more fun
You have made it this far, and sure, Father Time has thrown some wrinkles and a few greys on your person, but that’s what we call being “distinguished”. Remember that swagger that I spoke of earlier? Well, it makes you way more fun to be around and it makes you appreciate this new version of being social. Instead of doing keg stands eight days a week, you have graduated to hitting up that Saturday night house party where the women are dressed like Bardot, and the men are dressed like they give a shit. The music is at a perfect level and the drinks are tasty and strong. You have better conversations with these people because you have a lifetime of stories about meeting Joe Strummer, your first motorcycle crash, and your uncle’s bank heist in Boston some years back. You smile a lot more, you are older but handsome. The younger women are there, along with the proper Otis Redding jams, and you are finally comfortable in being you. You are “killing it”. At one point you look around the room and time has stopped, the anxiety of growing up has turned itself into a beautiful high, and life becomes clear. You are more desired, sexually, socially, and spiritually. You have become the Bowie of your own universe, and now you are grown up enough to know how to work it. Own that shit.

I hope these little examples with help ease the tension of growing older. Now I know that this won’t apply to all of you dudes, some of you are hopeless cases. That is fine, there is a certain beauty to being Peter Pan as well. I know that at some points of this article I may sound like a motivational speaker or your life coach, but these are true words from probably the most insane, ravenous, hedonistic dude that I have ever known…myself. Remember: grow older and better, be a man and take no shit, life is beautiful and meant to be celebrated, death is closer than you think. Keep your fucking dreams alive and forever fight for your right to party. You are the best at being you, now go out there and show the world.

My secretary will send you a bill. Thanks.

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