Adventures in Limboland

Shit I forgot the tinnitus! That would be the basic soundtrack of existence for anybody that played in a band with Strats, Tellys, Les Pauls, SGs or Flying Vs and a drummer that hit the skins with violent, injurious intent for 30 years or so and DIDN'T WEAR EARPLUGS until it was too late. For me it's that high B (a good note for Buddhists) that broadcasts from the center of the cranial control module, increasing in volume as the day wears on, finding harmony and rhythm with any ambient noise that ambles by. Sounds great, doesn't it? Too bad you can't turn it off! Drown it out, maybe for awhile, but never fear your aural companion will never abandon you!


If I started the maiden voyage of @FiftySeven by admitting that I forgot something, I forgot it on purpose, the purpose being to illustrate the organizing principle, or lack thereof, behind these "then and now" observations.If you aspire to become a Zen Buddhist, capable of emptying your mind of all but the tiniest gnat (humming in the key of B I might add. Or maybe it IS a BEE!) then you will find it gets a whole lot easier as you go. No wonder all the yogi's and guru's are these old fucks living in caves! Social security doesn't cover the rent, their digestive systems can't handle most foods, the libido moved out with the wife and kids, and they can't hardly talk anymore. So. Senility? Enlightenment? Who's to say? Sure a guy's gonna get good at pulling a noodle through his nose and out his ass if that's all he does all day!

Okay besides brain termites, the illustration below attempts to capture just a few of the new bodily features I have acquired, most in the last 5 years, and this doesn't include the growth of hairs in odd places, inexplicable pains deep within the darkest inner reaches of the soul (really hard to find, much less draw), the misleading appearance of surprisingly teen-like zits...

I too was once youth on the go. I now work with youth on the go, every day, at a very highbrow and creative advertising agency (I know they're not called that any more but this is my blog and I reserve the right not to give a fuck what they want to be called, godammit! I feel a sudden urge to be sitting in an imagined friend's imagined living room overlooking a medium tempo freestone river on an early autumn evening after a day of fly fishing in the deep, clear, cold pools swilling cold white wine out of a boda just like NICK ADAMS! Damn - see how that works? Hemingway that dead bastard!)

The invasion of the non-sequiter is another common side effect of reelin' in the years. Why those of us in the bottom of the fifth (I like the "life is like a baseball game" metaphor even if the average bear doesn't make it for all nine innings) think that most folks would like nothing more than to wander off topic and make every conversation or business meeting an exercise in free association is purely aspirational thinking. It could be that we become afraid of actually "getting things done" since ultimately getting the big thing call life done is just the regular completion of our daily items on the to-do list, one day at a time (if we're lucky).

Ah but the old guys do tire sooner, and I think this old guy is eager to find out what the subconscious has in store tonight! I'll try and remember to include it in the next issue of @FiftySeven, but don't count on it! Besides this might be @SixtySeven by the time I get around to the next blog...

Jeb