One, two, three, if I should loose my memory because of age or sex or drugs I doubt I’d miss it.

November 3, 2010 § Leave a comment


 “I want to feel the way I felt when I was a kid just messing about before I thought about the world like I do know” – Damned old Dad – Kevin Devine 

I’m in New York again, it’s late evening and the suns coming down. I’m in Greenwich Village about a hundred meters from the corner of Jones and West 4th Street were Bobby Dylan had his picture taken with Suze Rotolo in an image that would eventually grace the cover of the iconic The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. I’m still writing for the magazine this time a gig reviewing The Washington Square Hotel. I think the only reason they still employ me is because they have worked something out that I had realised a few fresh eyed weeks into the job. I really don’t act or dress or look like any other critic. The reason this is makes me employable is that I do not get treated any differently to any other customer, in fact probably worse. The magazine was so sick of sending in the same people who would spunk away their stay getting there ass kissed and then giving them 10 thumbs up in a review. 10 thumbs up? What the fuck is that anyway? So they pay me for honesty not advertisement. I’m rambling, but hey you should be used to that by now?

Once you start to get older that madness starts to fade doesn’t it? As you start to watch the child stars you used to know roll themselves in to the train wreck that is the rest of their lives and all the celebrities you used to know start going gray and the Rolling Stones get even older without dropping down dead. You start to loose that feeling that anything is possible. You start to know that your not going to make it, wherever the hell it is. With that realisation you also realise that all the mad stuff you’ve been saying only means anything if you have the ability to back it up by making it, otherwise your a dick. You realise that you are a failure and it’s probably for the best you stop dressing that way. Your not rich are your not famous and you were never going to be and all those people who said you were making an ass of yourself were right. Your not young any more, get some normal clothes for god sake, your not crazy anymore, get a job, act your age man. The fact of the matter is that Marlon Brando got fat, Steve McQueen got ill, while James Dean stayed cool forever. The fact of the matter is that while Iggy pop was trying to sell me car insurance and Mick Jagger was drinking with Bill Clinton, Jimi Hendrix was up on a cloud with Cobain and Buckley and Brain Jones and Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison and Maxi Dos Santos who are all laughing and smiling like bankers and stock dealers who all pulled out of it just at the right time.

There’s a flaw in the young and the old alike. It is a very basic and simple thing that in my opinion defines modern people. That flaw is as follows. The things we love kill us. Be it tequila, handguns or beautiful women. On top of this, although we know this fact we do not learn it, not in the long term at least. Of course briefly we learn it all to well. When we wake up with the that rattle of a hangover we promise that we will never drink again. When we shoot ourselves in the foot fucking around with your revolver you promise the nurse from your hospital bed that you will get rid of it the second you get home. When you part ways with that girl you love you promise yourself that you will never get involved to that level again. But you just wait. Cold turkey is the worst. Over time it is the bad memories that fade and the good that stick around, if you really pay attention you will notice that the good ones become tuned and made into perfection. This is the reason why a few days after you would rather crawl off a bridge then go back into a bar you will want to wet your whistle once more. That is the reason why you return to your house, take one look at that pistol that sent your piggy to market for the last time and don’t through it in the bin. That is the reason that you will fall in love with the next pretty girl who shows you a slip of attention. The passing of the “Survival of the fittest” mentality has left us lazy and lethargic when it comes to learning lessons that used to keep us alive. But staying alive is no longer the primary objective, perhaps that is the finest point that can be put on evolution.

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You are currently reading One, two, three, if I should loose my memory because of age or sex or drugs I doubt I’d miss it. at No Longer an Astronaut..

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