nines

I turn 30 soon. People ask, ofcourse. Do I care about the number? Yes and no, more no. Mmmk, some days it’s a hell yes. What does it mean? It means things. I’m bloggin bout it aren’t I? The number is there. Age is there, time spent. A good amount of time, apparently. I feel 9 yrs old and 90 years old. I feel completely accomplished, also like I failed deeply. I’m glad I can’t see the former more clearly.

It makes me think about life in the bigger picture. Have to, cuz life isn’t all there yet. I need to learn that it won’t be there until noon of the day after my death. I feel 20, but only like a 30 yr old looking back to 20. Are those thoughts even valid though? As always, all is as it should be. Should I sit and make plans . . . cuz it’s a stepping stone? I hope later that I don’t feel like stepping on this year. That it didn’t involve any stones. Nothing hard, not too big that I can’t get around.

You think that even the gods make plans? I’m thinking they get high, on low pressure systems and lightning bolts. I think they dress funky ass shit - flourescent pants and Cosby sweaters. They wear shoes – they need them too. I think they throw darts but they’re just like you and I, sometimes they put down their water bill money but sometimes it’s just a Tuesday afternoon game. Only science brings the dart to the bullseye.

The artist speaks of the river. The river is next.