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September 18, 2014: Post Birthday Blues

Really, it was a day just like any other. And really, the only one who could make this event seem significance was/is me. Birthday came and went. I’m older, but am I any wiser? I’d like to think so, but I think not. I’m perhaps a bit too smart for my own good. Or, for my own good, I’m a bit too smart.

I do not perceive myself as being any older than I was, say, 20 years ago. I am these days a bit stiffer than in the past. Daily stretching, yoga once a week, this alleviates this problem. I do not have a plastic container with the days of the week on the top, which I or a caretaker fills with pills. I also don’t have

underwear with the days of week stitched on each pair. I know when my underwear is dirty, and I don’t need a daily reminder to indicate when I need to change it.

I recently received a letter from a friend. (I’m his biographer and he’s my biographer.) In this letter he attempted to put a humorous spin on a not-so-humorous situation. This is that he’s now dangerously out of shape. He’s not morbidly obese, not even obese. But he’s pretty dang fat. He’s also suffering from shortness of breath and heart palpations. All this is reason for concern on his and, of course, my part.

I wrote back and said that he better do something about all this because I’m not currently in a position to start work on his biography. I have to first get a handle on Bill Fuller’s biography – and right now, with all I have going on, this is proving to be quite difficult.

My response (I realize) sounds callous and self-serving. However, I don’t want to do the person in question a disservice by failing in my promise to him, which is provide a well written account about a well lived life. He isn’t famous, but he’s an accomplished poet and musician. And so, a carefully crafted missive will enable his spirit to live on well after I and others are gone.

If my biographer really knew how much so many love him, he’d resolve to get back in shape and then do it. I suspect that this won’t happen, that he’s now beyond the point of no return. This is because he thinks that he is.

As for me, I’m an okay poet, and an okay non-fiction writer. I’ve by now accepted the fact that I’m not going to have a larger than life audience for my work. I also suspect that although I’m not in great shape, that barring the unforeseen, that I’ll outlive him. That is, barring the unforeseen. One never knows when the grim reaper is going to come a knocking at one’s door.

But I do feel that for my own sense of well-being and self-betterment that I should make a more concerted effort to get back in shape. So, already today, Pete and I went for a post-birthday walk with the critters, which is the three dogs, and three horses. And later today, I’ll go for a ride on Raudi and take the dogs with. And after that, I’ll go to yoga. I gotta start somewhere, somewhere being on the flip side of being young.

Next: 250. 9/19/14: Big Ideas