WHEN SOMEONE ASKS YOUR AGE, TRY DEATH

Today, someone asked how old I was. Cheeky twat, I thought. Being 42, it’s a raw subject. Still, he wanted and I needed an answer, a smart answer, something to make him feel small, young and stupid. Some time later on my bike I had a thought  (fascinating ideas appear when you’re cycling but more of that another time). Anyway, I wish I’d said: ‘Sadly, I only have another 63 years to live.’ But I didn’t. Next time though.

December 9, 2008
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Comments

One Response to “WHEN SOMEONE ASKS YOUR AGE, TRY DEATH”

  1. Dick Brautigan on December 10th, 2008 12:11 pm

    Being dead ain’t so bad if I say so myself. With 24years of afterlife under my belt, it’s not all the flames and clouds it’s cooked up to be. People assume you claw back years once you’re gone and grow young again on the other side. If only. Time and direction don’t sing the same song here though. One day you’ll know. Until then, you stick to thisness, I’ll stick to thatness.

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