this starts at 10:35

I know you are still awake. or, well, i know i am still awake. and i know you're not doing anything specific to this moment. or, okay, i know I am not doing anything specific to this moment. or, okay, i know i am awake and if i am doing something, some task whose accomplishment must be an action of the present, its not going to take long. it might even be over.
an opened bottle of wine, half a sigur ros at the moma broadcast watched, a night in the apartment alone well under way. and its true, that at this point i am just drinking the wine until i am tired to the point of tired that will let me slip into sleep. and sure, if this was always my life then it would be substance abuse or depression. tonight, it is my life. its a Portuguese wine. easy to down, as advertised. nothing. a small speck. a small speck. amazement. shock and awe. turning and time passing and calcification. sometimes i feel like the muscles along the center of my back are fusing to my spine out of some pressure or stress that i am involved in. yup. wow, time moves differently here.

would you like to know my favorite thing about aging? the free confidence that comes with it. i mean, sure, there is a remembering of time in my past, when i was younger, where i knew a lot more. was confident i knew a lot more. but the confidence of aging is different from the confidence of youth. the confidence of aging comes with each turning year. its a little like that cathy bates quote in fried green tomatoes, 'face it ladies, I'm older and have more insurance.' not that i want to even think about the myriad of ways that the wisdom of age could improve on the insurance system, i am just saying, there is an confidence assurance of aging, and it goes something like,' it hasn't stopped yet'. its not about knowing anything its just about racking up the time put into to this lifetimes pursuit and having that in the back pocket.

i really haven't a clue. to have no job, no community of people, no intimate relationship is to have a life so determined by my own presence that it makes me obsolete? obscure? untouchable? i cant nail the right word, but, even if I did, I'm not sure you'd understand. not that I'm alone in this experience, but that this is the experience of being alone.