Monday, May 02, 2011

The half-dead weekend man.

After age thirty, I'd often pause on the even decades of life to, sort- of, mourn the passage of my youth.

Ah, thirty. Borderline between youth and maturity...But harder and harder now to get over the monstrous all- nighters, working all day and having a twelve pack that evening just to get over it all. But by 31, you can't do the entire twelve bottles; there is a liverishness now to your liver from the gin of the last debauch, and, as you try to play the role of lover at night, there seems to be a problem with your shift-lever mechanism. Maybe it's the cigarettes....Coughing frutily--or in the language if those days, turning fruit?
Wha' hoppen? My youth is passing.

At forty, I once again mourned the passing of my youth.

Mid-life crisis. A Dr. Smith character now, out of Lost In Space. "Oh, dear. What will become of me?"

Younger partner tired of my neuroticism, even less impressed by my eroticism. "Here's a vacuum cleaner, Ponce de Leon. You can rhuminate and fantacize while actually doing something useful. You were once my friend and lover. Now it' s more like friend and loafer."
I had to laugh. Well, at least the ole sense of humour is not gone, either in her or in me.

But no sense of humour when I was caught at something naughty. Oh, Ponce de Leon! Do not go fishing in borbidden streams! Do not attract moonbeams in a strange bed!

Kicked out, I was suddenly Fritz the Cat, meeting all sorts of denizens down there near the sewers.
I complained to a new drinking buddy, that I had been caught at cheating.
"You think that's something? I was caught in the showers with George Hyslop, the President of Toronto's Community Homophile "Association."
I'd answered, "Well, at least he's not suing for divorce."

At fifty, among the pipes and old hissing radiators of rooming houses, I once again mourned the passing of my youth.
Listening to Bob Seeger:

"Twenty years, where'd they go
Twenty years, I don't know
I sit and wonder sometimes
where they'd gone

At sixty, residing in my old Dodge hatchback, I one again mourned the passing of my youth.

A gorgeous brunette passed where I was parked, near the Walmart. She saw my look of abject need.
"You poor thing. You look like you need to get laid...Can't help you right now, 'cause I just did. ...But I'll come around tomorrow..."
I turned that night from mourner to optimist.

And the next day from loafer to lover.
Even with half an erection

I had all these years, forgotten the bounty of the woman, the cycle of life.
Strange realization, as I sit today, at seventy,up to no good at all, when the phone rings. "I think you need to get laid....Will that be a prooblem for you?"

I am Nat King Cole.

Ramblin' Rose...

Ponce de Leon, finally arrived in the country of flowers.



Mona said...

In India we are feeling eighty not with age, but with the heat!

DOM, I mean the weather... said...


Charles Gramlich said...

Some day I'll take a whole day to mourn. Right now I'm running to stay ahead of the reaper. said...


We are all running, running...

Erik Donald France said...

Ivan, this is really great! said...

Thanks, Erik.

This, coming from you, makes me feel that all this ratscrabbling is actually worthwhile.

Wyatt E. said...

some never told me about the brunette...

seriously,tho',having known you since Noah threw the woodpecker off the Ark,I can attest to the truth of the legends of have,most surely,my friend,packed at least 150 years' worth of great living into the agreement you signed with life...long may you run,and little may you rust... said...


Thanks much for the appreciation.

Oh we try, we really try.

Erik Donald France said...


Sometimes it's a technical issue that delays a response -- for some reason, comments are blocked from some places, but not from others.

Definitely a lot of enjoyment from your writing and stories.

the walking man said...

so was it? a problem? said...


Thanks again, man!

ivan said...


These damn exercises in writing are hard to complete!

I hope like Erik, above, you at least enjoyed the read.

Take care.

benjibopper said...

loved this description of the aging process, tho now i fear it gets worse.

the bit from the 40s reminded me of this song:

ivan said...

thnx, Benji

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