Fuck It I'm 50

Here I was thinking that these last throes of my dear blog’s life would be soft focus, contemplative and well… beautiful. But as it turns out my life as I know it comes first.

Argh! I am yawning as I write, I am achy and tired, and the short SiFi, sexy, futuristic, over the top film I am producing is invading my life like a hoard of demanding demon babies.

And I am the chief, and sort of only, baby wrangler.

But this project, and this blog will go away.

Very, very, soon.

And I have my good-bye blog, hello 51 birthday party on Wednesday at 323 Gallery and if you are reading this you are now obliged to come…you know what I was obsessing about today was saying thank you to everyone who has bothered to read, and especially those who have bothered to respond, this year. One of the main points of making this public is I couldn’t shirk it if I promised others I would do it, and I did well. Maybe I’ll have the totals tomorrow, and maybe not, but I have only truly fucked up a few times, maybe 10-15 in a whole year, made up of 365 days.

And by fucking up I mean not writing. Help us all, I wrote a lot.

Pretty good. And I am sad and scared to stop. And I’m not sure why.

When I mentioned to Ron earlier, who happens to be here on my editing computer in the other room because his internet is down at his place,( how nice is that to be working side by side, or room by room), anyway when I mentioned to him I only had two days left he bleated out a “Whoo Hoo!” .

And I do too, while I wonder what’s next.

I read and edited the month of April today, and dear Patty came and made the organized piles of my verbiage, we call her the stripper, but I don’t have time to contextualize…but what was in April? Ron. We met on April 9^th, we have known each other for four months now, and it is still an adventure and a huge unknown, yet rife with possibility.

Just as new love should be.

And I am listening to Brian Eno’s “Music for Airports”, one of mine, and my mother’s favorites, even in her last months of life she requested this. And there is a whole great story around that that I can’t tell right now, but maybe I will in a further incarnation of this text.

Hey, what do you think I should do next with what I have written? Bury it on a thumb drive? Print it out and burn it at the beach? Try to make a book? Start a self-help middle aged lecture series? Let it go and move on? Keep writing an posting?

You be the judge.

Oh my, Brian Eno is great. So is Lefty, Laurie, Ron, Virginia, (thanks for the party bag!!!-will call tomorrow, my love to Bernie), and anyone else who reads this.

Me oh my, me oh my.