Then, I think of my babies and I worry more about their future. How scary. And don't get my started on social media. I think most of it is awful, and yet I am tweeting now to Edward Burns (my screenwriting hero) as though I want him - and he is old enough to be my teenage love-child. I do that with books too - if I like something, I read them all... beat them all down with a I-love-you-so-much-stick until I'm so tired of it all that I need some more Pinot. Resolution #3 is trying to refrain from becoming a budding alcoholic.
I am beginning to be able to see my imminent death in my minds-eye. I'm going for ninety, but even then, that doesn't seem so far off. I think I am the only person in the world who isn't afraid of my own death. My theory is that if you are truly scared to die ---->you haven't lived.... and among the plays, the band, the book, the friends, the kids, the painting, the blog, the piano, and the illusions of grandeur that keep me going minute-by-minute... I am just not so worried about kicking the bucket, and that, my dears is an accomplishment in and of itself. My grandchildren think I'm a little nuts (I kinda like that) and my children are truly beginning to appreciate what they used to shun in my bizarre attempt to be myself. Most people don't do that and are far too worried what others think (played that game; won it; bought the t-shirt; not impressed). I have so many interests that I forget what they all are, which makes life a fascinating buffet for me.
I don't believe in funerals and so I won't have one. I think they are stupid and depressing. However, I DO believe in parties to celebrate life and hope my family will throw me one of those. Of course, if they don't, I won't care as long as they go to a bar, drink some martinis and/or Jack Daniels and play some Motown. Some Marvin Gaye, maybe?
I'm off to go eat up something new.
Oh, Marvin...
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