Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Senior Sex(less) and the City-Episode #1
I’m not sure if he was trying to convey the image of international playboy or trying to get in touch with his imaginary inner black man. He went on and on…and on…about his various trips around the world. I couldn’t tell you about those, though, because my mind kept wandering to his ear. This overly white, 50-something man was sporting gangsta bling in one ear. Only on him it looked a little like he was affixing pieces of Great Aunt Esther’s mourning brooch to random body parts. He was probably a strawberry blonde back when he had a full head of hair. Now the places where the hair had vacated were getting sunburned to a disturbing shade of pink. Note to pink, fleshy men in your 40s and beyond: Nix the earring. Really. You do not look like a rapper dude. You look like a large, sweaty Muppet who’s maybe considering transvestitism but just isn’t willing to fully commit.
Next week: Episode #2, Sporty Skimpster.