Webster’s defines “new” as “yadda yadda yadda…” No one cares.
It’s been a LONG time since I’ve contributed anything of worth to this site – or society in general. In a way I feel like I’ve been letting my creative side down, but I also realize that in order to have something worth writing about – or singing about, thinking about, or even mentioning – one must live a little. I read a quote once that said (something along the lines of) “I don’t want to read a book by a person who hasn’t read much.” Point being that one must gain experience in order to relay anything interesting to others.
I like to think of myself as a sort of sieve. An information processor, if you will (and if you won’t, then fuck right the fuck off). What we are – what we do – is take in stimulation of one sort or another, and process it through our experience. This very experience is what determines if something is humerus, sad, lovely, touching, interesting, boring, or anything. We then either reject or incorporate this stimulation into who we are; and those bits which we incorporate, we project back out into the world for the next person to experience and either incorporate or reject. In this manner, we take the most primitive of ideas of our ancestors and through the process of filtering and refinement, create the world we currently experience. Generations from now, the echos of our lives will still have reverberations. I think it was Walt something-or-other that said as people, (maybe he said “writers,” I don’t know) the very best we can hope for is to leave a tiny scratch on the great wall of eternity; that we’re infinitely small and unimportant and that the most any of us could hope for is to be remembered – since all of our works and will be eaten by erosion and time.
In a way, it brings hope. No matter how low a point you manage to achieve in this world, there’s always death to look forward to – and with it, obscurity – just like everyone else. We’re all the same in death (religious ideas aside). But it also brings with it a strange foreboding: that no matter how great an achievement you embody, no matter how much money you make, no matter how many hotels you have named after you, eventually it will all be destroyed and no one will care. Hell, if humanity never makes it off planet Earth, then in several billion years the sun will expand and reclaim the Earth. 
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m achieving a certain degree of peace in my life. It’s a difficult path to walk; being content with what you have and who you are versus growing, changing, and adapting to keep up with the world in which you live – but I feel like I’m finding that balance. I no longer obsess over having six-pack abs but I’m also conscientious to exercise and keep weight down. I’m no longer obsessed over trying to be everything to everyone, yet I’m happy to strive to be the kind of person I’d love to run into. The dichotomies are endless, really, and I’ve got a lot of growing to do, I admit, but that growth is now accompanied by a tranquility I’ve rarely known. While I’m still not sure of who I want to be in the future, as I am absolutely terrible at goal setting, I am sure that it will be someone I’d want as a friend, lover, or associate.
So with that, let’s toast to getting old, getting wise, and gaining perspective. Sorry for the dearth of baby rape comments you’ve come to expect form my blog. Perhaps next time we’ll address something gross or socially unacceptable; like, for instance, is child porn from the 1970’s still illegal? I mean, surely those guys are in their 40s or 50s by now, right? These questions and more we’ll discuss next time.