Thursday, September 18, 2008


I'm at a bar in Rhode Island having a drink[s] and some snacks (which I called dinner) with a blogger friend of mine, and something that was said made me thing of an interview I had seen years ago with Grandpa Munster (or rather the actor who played him, whose name escapes me at the moment).  He was probably in his late 80s at the time, and aside from being infinitely more wrinkled than he used to be, he appeared to be the same person he was back in the 60s when he played Grandpa Munster. 

The quote was "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you was?"

That was worthy of Yoda, man.  That's right up there with the "what's the sound of one tree clapping in the forest" question.  I try to honestly answer that question when I ask it of myself (the first question, that is).  I think right now I would have to say 17.  Not because I feel young and energetic and nearing my sexual prime (however, if you happen to be Morgan Webb, all of the above is true, please call), but because I feel stupid, confused, and not sure what the hell I'm doing.  Unless you're Morgan Webb, in which case ignore that last sentence and go back to the one about being young and energetic.  Really, really energetic.  call me...

I think I finally get Lisa of Lisa 4.8 (formerly Lisa 4.0) or rather the self versioning system.  We change as we go through this crazy life thing.  It's like the 12 Monkeys quote "The movie never changes but it seems different when we see it again because we're different." 

Why is it whenever I get up to Cowboy 3.0 (Tao Cowboy) the OS reboots and the update gets uninstalled? 

Today, I decided to jump back up to Cowboy 2.5.  I decided to go see the ocean instead of sitting in my hotel room, because a smart person told me that was a stupid thing to do, and she was right. 

I did see the ocean today, and that's a cool thing for somebody that normally lives as far from an ocean as one can get.  Unfortunately it was dark by the time I got there and getting there involved getting lost, parking in front of a strangers house, and driving the wrong way down a one way street in a rental car with no coverage, so all I really saw was this big black mass that I assumed was the ocean because it smelled and sounded like an ocean.  Cool stuff.  Then I hung out and did cool stuff in Massachusetts with one of those cool blogger type people.  That's so Cowboy 2.5.  This is going to sound stupid, but I've had this weird fascination with Massachusetts since I was a kid, and today I can finally say "I've been to Massachusetts". 

So I ask you: How old would you be if you didn't know how old you was?


  1. I wouldn't be any age at all and neither would anyone else be. I am sort of like that anyways. You asked how old I was and were worried I'd be offended. I answered without offense, maybe amused. I probably laughed. I remember you asking me how old I thought you were. I shrugged and said I didn't care. I think it's a pretty silly label. It's probably more useful to know what kind of pickles you prefer. I like dill. Half sours are gross. Have fun with the arbitrary numbering systems. I think an arbitrary system based on pickles would be slightly more useful and much more appetizing. What kind of pickle would you prefer if you'd never had a pickle? :)

  2. I think I would have to pass on the whole pickle thing altogether due to some latent homophobia. It is an arbitrary numbering system, true, but since you can pick your own age, it can be though of as a method of self examination. Most of us have some pre-conceived notions of what people are like at a given age (I'm impressed that you don't) and it can be revealing to answer the question honestly. Few probably can though. Society places a huge emphasis on youth and beauty, which is complete crap, but it has a way of permeating most of our subconsciousnesses (is that even word?).

    Being oblivious to physical age can also get harder as you get older, and it starts to be a little louder about itself. When I hit 80, I probably won't worry too much about getting carded at the liquor store, but I'd like to think that I can keep the same outlook on life I have now, or the one I had 10 years ago. Call it a crutch, it works.