Moments, Lived.

Yes, I got older a few days ago — like clockwork, I prefer not to celebrate that date like everybody else but spend it with the only person that truly knows what it was for me to be born,

ma mère.

I have this nagging feeling or thought that keeps interjecting every-time I tweet to rebuff someone for saying something stupid or unfounded.  I could never put a finger on what exactly it is. I think at this moment I have a break through. It could be unfounded but I think it will be best to ink it into pixels, so I can later come back to it.

The feeling or thought has to do with, age, not getting old, but being past a certain age, in this case thirty.  I think, when you reach this age — yes, I am 34 — there less bullshit you are will to entertain, but, beyond that, you are not willing to subject others to your own bullshit.

By that I don't mean, being a bore but, everything matters:

what coffee you drink; what music you subject your mind to; what drawings of light you allow you mind to envision; what words you string together into an idea, a thought or an exploration of an emotion.

Yes, sure some things might not all come out in the best way you could project them, but there is this, almost obsessive, attention to your own details.

This is merely a thought, but I have come to realise it in a lot of things I say, do and enjoy, almost as if, this nagging feeling is in-fact:

about mortality — the end is nigh — every moment must be felt and lived to its fullest.

And, because at this age, you have a lot of memory and knowledge to draw from — bullshit, actually, you can smell from a mile.

 
age, feeling, bullshit
  1. , , confirm
  2. that this is my and you
  3. can find out who I am from this
  4. With that said ,
  5. is what I wanted to with you. — and yes, please