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Fucking mortality
Oct. 28th, 2013 08:07 amPeople are tripping that Lou Reed died, which is understandable. I listen to the big broadcast, made up almost exclusively of now-dead folks who were once media staples. I've seen how the news of who died has become background static, to a hmm, to hmph, to recognition and then sadness myself.
I've only recently noticed that anything I heard that was new at the time I heard it remains "new" to me forever. Led Zep is not new, but NIN after pretty hate machine is. Crystal Castles is brand fucking new. If I have grandkids and they listen to Crystal Castles they will not be cool - it'll be their generation's grandad's victrola music.
You go from wondering if that's a gray hair to having so many you either ignore or dye them. Those random injuries and pains become...regular. Each step, unannounced and unpredictable, you fight and argue but eventually accept them. Your body is dying, soon too your mind. No sports car or surgery will change it, rather those things tend to show how far it’s gone and how sadly you struggle against the current.
I suppose if I had the time and the right knitting needles I might try to re-ravel my DNA strands or whatever it is that decides we should not wander eternally. There is, to me, a healthy letting go point, and with luck a happy release to let the next generation struggle with the issues of their day - letting them succeed and fail as the generation before you did.
I don't even have kids - I can sort of look at humanity and feel like once I was a part of it. Not that how I feel about it changes what happens one whit.
I've only recently noticed that anything I heard that was new at the time I heard it remains "new" to me forever. Led Zep is not new, but NIN after pretty hate machine is. Crystal Castles is brand fucking new. If I have grandkids and they listen to Crystal Castles they will not be cool - it'll be their generation's grandad's victrola music.
You go from wondering if that's a gray hair to having so many you either ignore or dye them. Those random injuries and pains become...regular. Each step, unannounced and unpredictable, you fight and argue but eventually accept them. Your body is dying, soon too your mind. No sports car or surgery will change it, rather those things tend to show how far it’s gone and how sadly you struggle against the current.
I suppose if I had the time and the right knitting needles I might try to re-ravel my DNA strands or whatever it is that decides we should not wander eternally. There is, to me, a healthy letting go point, and with luck a happy release to let the next generation struggle with the issues of their day - letting them succeed and fail as the generation before you did.
I don't even have kids - I can sort of look at humanity and feel like once I was a part of it. Not that how I feel about it changes what happens one whit.
