"The road to the future leads us smack into the wall. We simply ricochet off the alternatives that destiny offers. Our survival is no more than a question of 25, 50 or perhaps 100 years." - Jacques Yves Cousteau
About a month ago, in a 36 hour period of time, I lost somebody I had loved my entire life, lost somebody else I liked very much and respected, and heard of the passing of someone I had a close, yet fleeting 6 weeks with.
The older I get, I seem to always lose something while I'm gaining something else. The amount of people I've known who have simply come and gone from my life is extraordinary. I'm only 32, but through experience, lived and observed, I can safely conclude that getting old is not for sissies.
Any number of thousands of things can kill you everyday. To be able to escape all these variables and wind up on the better side of luck can only last so long. But with each passing birthday, and fuck, each passing day, I find it remarkable to still be alive. The general math is that each year of touring subtracts 3 years from your life, I'm in my 60's in rock and roll years. Mick Jagger is 286 years old.
I wish it wasn't taboo to tell young children not to look forward to birthdays. But to tell them when they reach these age pinnacles, while celebrating with cake and friends and clowns and bowling that...in reality, it's a celebration for them simply not dying. Well done on avoiding catastrophe for one more year kid. I'll never utter this to a proper child, but come on....are we really partying in honor of the day of their birth? I don't think so.
Many years ago I was at The Fest in Gainesville, Florida. The morning after we played, I wound up going with friends to the Top, a bar that serves delicious vegan biscuits and gravy on Sundays. I went for food...but, since I went with members of Fake Problems and Look Mexico, I wound up drunk on whiskey by 1:00 PM.
While walking away to start seeing bands, I stepped off a curb and my face came two inches from a speeding bus. My hazy mind barely recognized the severity or danger. An occurrence where every element involved...my shoes, my hat, the size of my feet, not to mention innumerable variables that went into the bus, its driver and passengers could have changed the outcome. For some reason, that day, I stayed two inches away from being a "senseless" tragedy.
But really, it makes perfect sense. The more you live, the worse your odds get. Even with these fucking wheat grass shots my girl makes me drink. Adding to my already growing sensibility that no day, or no situation should ever be taken for granted.
Soon enough I'll be broken down to elements. Perhaps my soul will advance in some kind of cosmic or spiritual journey. But more than likely, I'm plant food. Which usually turns into animal food, which people eat. So, ironically...I guess death turns us all into cannibals. That's fun!