I turned sixty yesterday and I feel oddly compelled to talk about that. I think mostly just to get things about it straight in my own head. There is an odd “sensation” attached to it for me for reasons I’m not sure I totally understand.

There’s shit about this rolling around in my head…so, in no order:

If people live to about eighty, then I’ve just finished 75% of my life. Or, I’ve got 25% of it left. So, the Grim Reaper isn’t coming for me yet, but he sure does have my name on the list now. I don’t sit around worrying about croaking, don’t misunderstand me, but this number, 60, has brought me a little closer to facing my mortality in a pretty direct way.

Though more sophisticated and mature, my opinions about things are pretty much what they were when I was 18 or so. Yeah, sure, some things have changed as I’ve changed, but largely I still hold the same opinions and thoughts that I did some 40 years ago. My point is that I don’t feel old in my head. Yet 60 is an old number.

And that brings up something else. I know that the concept of “old” is a lot dependent on one’s age. To someone who is 20, 40 seems old. But everyone would agree, mostly, that 60 is certainly old…me included. I’m two years away from an “early retirement” age, five years away from a “regular” retirement age, who knows how long away from being the victim of some old man’s medical problems. I have had some arthritis for some time and I feel it more and more each day. Yet, except for my fuckedfoot syndrome and some arthritis, I’m in remarkably good health, not likely to stroke out or die of heart disease…so I’m not so old medically.

My libido is as healthy as it’s ever been, if one can call it “healthy,” maybe getting stronger as I age. I still have full and regular erections, Viagra not necessary at all…though I think it would be fun to party with. And I have a sexy, beautiful, libidinous girlfriend cum wife who is 17 years younger than I…and I ain’t askeert of the challenge of keeping her satisfied…Groucho eyebrow wiggle, eyebrow wiggle…

Yet I crossed some sort of threshold for me yesterday, one that makes me somewhat uneasy, for reasons I still haven’t fleshed out, no matter this limited screed here.

Oh, well, things are what they are, right?

Meh, fuck me if I can’t take a joke.