Lame O

Here's the thing.

Every weekday morning, you wake up and you look out the window and you see the world as you expect it. You go to work and you do your best (or relatively close to your best) and then you go home. Maybe you write a little, maybe you drink a lot. Maybe you put on a ballgame because you grew up thinking that sports were about the most important chunk of entertainment in life. Then you go to bed, wake up and do it again. Occasionally, you mix in a piece of pussy, or a wild night out with people who seriously entertain you and (on occasion), people who have earned your trust. You do this over and over and over and over again. And, as you age, everything becomes less and less important. Work starts to suck less, the girls all start to blur together, the drinks have less of an effect on you and the victories and defeats of your local sports teams begin to feel less important, less appropriate to the grand scheme of life than they were when you were a kid and everything was just so damn interesting.

And you start remembering things in a different way.

Memories, which are most often linked to smells, sounds and sights, become linked to emotions, to raw feelings that you clearly miss experiencing.

And then the next thing you know, you're cheating on your wife, or you're fucking a midget, or you wind up jacked up on cocaine in a strip club filled with willing whores who swear to Christ that you haven't lived until you've fucked on heroin.

And because you long to feel something raw and new, something insane and fun, like you did when you were a kid robbing medical supply centers or running from angry police or playing football on acid, you decide to do something insane. Something you've never done before and something you will never do again.

Only thing is, you can't figure out what the hell to do.

The adult part of your brain and the kid part of your brain are fighting with one another. The adult part wants to rate each new experience as some kind of balance between risk and reward. And the kid part just isn't cooperating.

So you sit down on your couch and you pop a beer and you turn on the ballgame.

And that feeling of wanting something more just lingers and lingers and lingers until it's practically a rock in your shoe in the long walk of life.

And that's what it's like to grow up, kids.

God help me. I'm getting lame.

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