Pheweeee! Well, last Monday was my 41st birthday. I’ve only got round to writing about that now as the previous few days were consumed with practising, gigging, festival-going and trying to sleep through wheezy nights. It’s been a hectic time for an old bloke!
I guess the biggest change in the last year is that I now take my health seriously. Since being in hospital, I’ve lost loads of weight and I’m generally far more active. You know, all the typical stuff old men do when they have their first health scare. Inside, I still feel twentysomething. It’s my physical body which is boorishly insisting on being fortysomething.
I think I’m slightly calmer emotionally than last year. Slightly. I don’t think I’d be a songwriter if I was completely normal. Goes with the territory, the same as you have to be a psychopathic cunt if you’re a capitalist.
I reckon if I’m very lucky, I’ve maybe got another twenty or thirty years ahead of me. That’s if I don’t get hit by a
bus flying car in the meantime, of course. If I were to exit this cabaret prematurely, that’d be okay (though I have no great urge to miss the rest of the floorshow, I hasten to add).
I’ve had a fucking fantastic life so far, full of adventure and wonder, beautiful women and magical music moments. If I ever wrote down an honest memoir it would likely be dismissed as fantasy. Picket lines and pop singles, singing, searching and sometimes, amazingly, connecting. Intertwining through it all are the threads that have guided and educated me: dialectical materialism, praxis, straight edge, existentialism, nihilism and, most importantly, women.
This birthday, I shall leave you with these old bloke pearls of wisdom:
Life is way too short to be bored.
There is no heaven, hell, valhalla, no coming back as a chicken or fuzzy Buddhist one-ness. This is all there is.
What are you waiting for?
And now I’m off to read some fab Kage Baker and do some asthmatic wheezing. Good night! 🙂