oh, my aching years

i just got in from a night of carousing with an old friend. it even sounds odd saying shit like that especially since it’s just past nine o’clock. i’ve been deep in my thoughts about age (my partner is turning 40) and i’m only a year behind. i’ve been claiming 40 all along so it never had much impact. it didn’t hit home until i reconnected with my old friend, del sol. we hadn’t talked in three months or so. that’s our off and on thing. we used to go 6-12 months or so without talking or connecting…on a tangent. you just assumed that the other was busy and you would connect again at some point. mind you though, del sol and i have been through a lot together. recreational (for some) party favors, booze (wineys), student films, warehouse parties and the pinnacle of all youthful activities, live music.

thought i’d be dialed in forever. 12 years in long beach was a tether that didn’t come easily. ask anyone who lived there. i’ve had friends who lived over meth labs, held odd jobs in morgues and sex shops. retail, restaurants bars! i’ve had crazy neighbors who were off their meds or even on them. even the occasional rocket scientist blew into town for an extended stay in strong beach. stints as a fill in party clown and bartender. i worked on warehouse parties, curated shows and had my own first one woman show at the que sera…(i’ll grow old on these memories…sigh) and yet, my friend turned me on to an alternative live radio/party here in my own hood and suddenly i sat up and asked, where the fuck have i been for the past four years?!! i can say, making money to pay for the cush situation i’ve been living in. a situation i didn’t have “back in the day”. but, STILL, there is this little corner of my soul that can’t seem to reconcile itself to not having both.

i WANT to be creatively tuned in but it’s so hard when everything is stripped from you at work. i work hard and i take pride in what i do because i believe in doing it right or don’t bother. i never want to be pegged as slack. so many people i know, stay independent and it seems like such a crapshoot. i won’t lie. i have minimal responsibilities. no kids. only my mortgage which equals rent these days. i don’t sweat. really. BUT i kill myself to pay for it. i put up with shit that i’ve never DREAMED of dealing with AND look at it as a test to my capacity for tolerance. (but hey, the world could use more tolerance.) and on these minute scales, you have to discern how far it goes. “well, ladies and gentlemen, i am reaching that point where you look back and re-evaluate where you’ve been and where you’re going to next,'” squalled the privileged brat. i won’t call it mid-life crisis because i’ve had some experiences here and there, but, the question is, where does my challenge lie next? what do i want to learn because i’ve been a sponge in my current job and looking back to where i’ve been, i know without a doubt that i’ve absorbed at least a masters degree. i want to know what my next challenge is. when you’ve had experience, clout, bullshit or whatever, you want to see what that buys you.

is it more money, peace of mind or both?

i did remember sitting next to a gent in the local well this evening who dropped in on our conversation regarding travel. nothing personal, but i did hear the repetitive voice of privilege in his banter. okay, even i’m rich when compared to a favela in brasil so i can’t drop the banner of privilege either, but, i won’t sit anywhere or any time and deny it! everything he said was such a cliché and i tried hard not to smile but even still, i didn’t have the heart to argue. (maybe that’s what money buys you?) so if awareness is a start, where do i fit on that path and how do i know what to do? what’s my passion for change? did i mention this was bar 107 , 3 drinks deep, nodding to judas priest?