So I don’t like birthdays. And it’s the same way I don’t like funerals. It’s like, duuude, who wants to go to a Sadness Party, y’know? Thinking about it, I might actually prefer funerals. Birthdays are this big charade of happiness, but meanwhile all you really want to do is cry and say, “I’m sorry for your loss. That’s a tough break on those 365 days they took. We’ll get the bastard, I SWEAR IT!”
The thing is, when I go to birthday parties and cry and tell them we’ll get the bastard, I’m not just being nice. I really mean it. I’m going to get that bastard! DO YOU HEAR ME, TIME?? THERE'S NOT ENOUGH ROOM IN THIS TOWN FOR THE BOTH OF US! ONE OF US IS NOT LEAVING THIS WORLD/DIMENSION ALIVE!!
Have I mentioned
Shouldn’t we celebrate birthdays and funerals the same way? One is: “Who’s dead? Let’s congregate.” And the other is, “Who’s closer to dying? Let’s congregate.” Either way, let’s get that Patron popping! Woo-Hoo!
Of course an old white man once told me that another old white man said, “Youth is wasted on the young,
Aging apologists like to point to my poverty, personality, and alcoholism as the source of my depression. Also, my average-sized penis (it's rude to point!). But definitely not my “maturation.” I am in fact getting better with time. But that is where the Criss Angel Mindfreak happens. Because I’m not getting better with time, I’m getting better with experience.
[earnest pause here]
This is what goads me the most about time. The vanity! The chutzpah! Everything we know and do is invested in time. Jobs, relationships, love, hate, it all seemingly fluctuates with time. But no! It’s all a ruse. Or so we hope...
The signs of our disbelief and rebellion are as persistent as the enemy itself. We never act our age. And never-turning-30 is always the-new-20 which is always the-new-47. I’ve been friends with this person for two months, but it feels like years. I’ve been blogging for a year and change, but it feels like forever. I can have sex for six minutes, but it feels like two. It’s all just friggin' numbers
We just have to work on ignoring Time. Separating him from our perception of experience. Either all experience is timeless. Or time only passes when we experience. Regardless, the seconds and minutiae don't matter. And that's what I'm here for, to make sure that prophecy is fulfilled. My "about me" should simply read "Time Killer." Sent here so that we would no longer be burdened by this oppressive institution of aging. The realm of our experience has no boundaries, time or otherwise. We just have to believe it. You could put a chicken in the oven right now, and cook it, and never have to look at the time. You can just experience when the chicken is done.
Go ahead. Try it. Put something in the oven. Maybe a meatloaf. Then forget about time...
Now go back the next "day" and see what you have. If you've been focusing, it should be a nice fresh tasty meat loaf. If it's burned, then try again, but this time THINK HARDER.
Anyage, I've gotten a little lost here, and I have to wrap this up because, uh, well the sun is going down. But just know, this is not the end. We're going to lick this mortality thing! We're going to do it together! And next time you see Time, tell him TAN said he's a dead man.
Eternal Now (audio) [TAN]