R.E.M. – Fables of the Reconstruction of the Fables

I despise old people trying to be young, but I have respect for old people making the most of their age. It’s a fine line. I don’t think partying at 30 is a problem unless you’re responsible for other human beings. It’s even okay to be a 40 year-old hitting on someone half your age as long as you know your place. Have a low tolerance for knowing your place. Be a decent person. I say this somewhat defensively because in ten years I suspect I’ll still be bothering my friends to get drunk and sing songs and link arms and dance and hug meatily and enjoy the feeling of being understood. And it might not work. I might be left behind in my immaturity, trying to befriend 20-somethings who don’t undersand why I’m around. And it’s okay. We should embrace ourselves as long as we are keen for when we make other people uncomfortable. Young to old, man to woman, white to black.

When I was young I idealized hanging out with people older than me. Just the thought of ten year-old Myles trying to talk baseball with my dad’s friends and drinking Beck’s is enough to make me puke inside. Oh god it hurts so much. Why must it hurt so much? Okay, okay. I wanted to be mature. And I was right – being a grown up is way better than being a kid. I mean, adulthood involves drinking and fucking. My childhood embarrasses me. And I was right then, but I wanted to be friends with older people. I don’t think I noticed there was a problem until one time I was eighteen and hanging out with a weird friend of mine, and she invited a thirty two year-old friend of hers over to argue atheism versus theism with me. I thought it was weird. Ever since I’ve been protective of the joys of being a young, beautiful person, though of course my prettiness fades with every fallen hair and every sore knee.

My girlfriend called me a manic pixie dream boy the other day in three-quarters seriousness. It’s a compliment in its way (given that I’m a shit) but I know I’m on a losing path by being a fucked up girl looking for peace of mind. I don’t know if I trust a 25 year-old that sounds fifty. If you aren’t Neil Young you shouldn’t Neil Young. Our twenties are a period of transition, but that goes for every decade of our lives unless we suck at living them. When you greet a stranger, look at his shoes. Keep your hat on your head, home is a long way away. How the fuck was “Wendell Gee” a single? I’ve been called an old soul and, more often, a teenaged girl. Life is so long, and I’m not even thirty, yet I feel I’ve lived forever. But fuck, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. Murk is murk. I’ll sound like a sad old man when I’m a sad old man and a sad young man when I’m a sad young man. I’m a sad young man, but I respect all the things. Ever try to put vodka in herbal tea? It’s surprisingly possible.

I’m out of time, but I think I’m comfortable with how old I am. I’m even looking forward to getting older. As long as my body doesn’t break down, of course. The strongest argument I have against suicide is to see what happens to the world. I want to see a downtown relief line before I die! No, really. The wind is colours. The air speaks. I whistle all the time, still.



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