12/16/20

this is 54. First warning wake up call about another death in the community. Not anyone I knew personally, but someone personally connected to most everyone I know in new york of a certain ilk. Seems like a weekly occurrence these days. Another good one gone. 54 is waking up to more death at 4am, and to a head splitting migraine. Am I stroking out? Does the latest bout of ‘who can upset who the most’ finally break the camels back? I lie in the dark thinking about any other year but this one. I am 54 , everyone is taking the ghost move out. Why do I keep on keeping on? The answer lies sleeping 10 feet away. Were it not for that beautiful young man. I would’ve checked out some time ago- physically or mentally- I would join the pre pandemic parade , the constant cavalcade of good times and bad decisions, my governing ethos for most of my life. Or maybe I would check out, a walk in the woods, as it were. Try something new for once. 54 is tepid tea in a chipped mug at a dirty table with peanut butter and marmite on toast. It is facebook messages from far flung friends from a previous life, when if you had a care , you didn’t share. It is wrestling a teenager for 45 minutes to force them 3 feet to school. It is staring at an overpriced artisanal ginger bread house that will be raccoon food quicker than you can say mar a lago. 54 is staring at the phone and thinking about 25. Pissed up with an alabaster skinned full lipped law student watching joe strummer front the pogues at a boxing venue in Dublin, where you get worked over by the bouncers for dancing on a chair and you pass up the chance to meet the man himself later because he’s a hero and you don’t wanna blow it , instead you settle for late drinks with now dead friends, and some later lithe maneuvers on a dirty mattress on a distressed phibsboro floor. 54 is feeding the cat whilst dreaming of coyotes and wondering where it all went wrong. But it/s your birthday and it/s home school and it/s snacks and leftover tacos and brian Lehrer and the BBC and Brooklyn 9-9 and the latest episode of of the culture wars – American edition- playing out one plagiarized or unoriginal thought at a time across all social media platforms. This is not fukuoka 2004 where jon spencer led 800 japanese kids in a resounding rendition of ‘happy birthday’ followed by one of the greateast meals of all time in a garden shed powered by a moped situated on the side of the road somewhere. Grilled pork, rich ramen, and ice cold asahi’s with peter arsenault, jon spence, Russell simins, Judah bauer and the creative man crew. That whole trip was possibly the greatest tour of all time, and I have been on some doozies. 54 is text messaged greetings from your ex wife at 7am. There will be blizzard preparedness which does not entail parker posey and/or dairy gain, but salt and shovels and sugar and snacks. I lived nearly every birthday from 16-39 hoping not to make the next one, so this is merely 40+14. Remember the 40th? A great meal at dok suni pre children with a group of friends that aren’t really friends anymore., but I think are all parents. Back room djs at the beauty bar with more friends both local and out of town, a further trip to motor city where out of town newly weds (now divorced) rolled our rocks and battled for cistern space and plasticine bags delivered by human drones. Where some numbnuts followed me around badgering me for being a cop and I threatened him with more violence than he threatened me. Why do trustafarian morons always accuse me of being either ruling class or a cop? I don’t wear filson or brogans, I am a dumpster diver. Funny to a point, and I could surely deal with either the spoils of progeny or a pension to drain today.. 54 hunches over marbled notebooks and a giant piece of millennial fiction waiting for the peacock premier membership to kick in, wondering if there is anything to look forward to this weekend. It is being covid compliant so the career can be dredged freom the depths of the gowanus so I don/t have to explain the 9 month gap in employment to some Amazon HR imbecile. It is being present for the young man growing in the other room and inexpertly guiding him towards adulthood knowing that we are here for him for any and all of his needs. 54 is is looking forward to movie discounts next year and not cbgb/s blow outs with dancing girls, killer bands, and brownies in tampon boxes. Today we drink tea, coffee if we are smart. Tonight we sleep, and tomorrow we shovel.