A lousy week until I turn 40. Obviously it is all downhill from here…or perhaps I was never up on that hill to begin with and my decline will be unnoticeable, chartable only under an electron microscope. I’ve begun for this most unpleasant event to grow a rather scruffy beard and have refused to shave my head to its usual nakedness. I have also ceased all bathing much to the chagrin of those in close proximity of me in the gym. These preparations for this upcoming milestone in my life are my rebellion against growing old.

Who the fuck invented getting old anyway? Why do my mitochondria have to stop working to full capacity? Why can’t I coax these little powerhouses with treats? A box of chocoloates?

This all too goddamn depressing to delve too far into. Perhaps I will just keep up my rebellion and build up a thick crust of beard and dirt and then a thousand years from now someone can crack this shell open and I will be perfectly preserved. Yes, that is what I will do. Thank-you for your time. Your input has been most useful…