Did Led Zeppelin really do that to a groupie? Raw tuna and shark fin soup. Been dazed and confused for so long now…I don’t know … is it raining, is it snowing is a hurricane a blowin’? RIP Eugene. You were my brother.
The preceding has been brought to you by a social media idiot desperate to post something wild and crazy that will get the hits! Yeah. A real try-hard trying to be edgy and cool without seeming so. Aye? There’s the rub. Been that way since those awkward first leanings toward coupledom, when locked in the bathroom with that cute girl in 4th grade and all that happened was the lie about kissing the cute girl in the other 4th grade class the whole 5 minutes I shoulda been kissing the girl right in front of me.
As the years strip away, the walks on the levy overlooking the ocean in the Sunset District of San Francisco have become all the more dear, whether the real ones I remember, or the ones I wrote about combined with the regrets and could-have-beens connected to an old red-hot love of mine; an Excalibur red sun sinking down again into the far horizon. Another world within a world of the many that we transition into so willingly once the days ahead are less than those behind.
So. You get out of the gate late on this whole Inter Web poser-cum-celeb thing. Did I say poseur? I meant poster. But then again… plus say the meme shows. And we’re all part of the dope show. Right? It’s all got to do with the size of your steeple. But what’s the point, I’m losing the plot. Don’t we just long for that retrograde day before innocence lost and life was still just a dream? Bloody nostalgia, though, iz not de way.
Hope springs eternal, even for Boomers. I actually am of the Generation designated X, but these days anyone over 40 is a Boomer, so I will not quibble about my fate. But you may now know more, get the gist of the blog’s name. Another easter egg where none are even making the slightest attempt to search. Woe is X. X marks the spot. What is this coldness that has come between two freshly parted lovers? My followers are the symbol of infinity propped into its vertical iteration. That’s not even one zero, Jim! The tall and the short of it is that there are tipsters telling me to join Pinterest, the wayward bloggers’ solution to getting more hits! And so, I am on Pinterest without a clue as to how it works or what I am doing there. A wing and a prayer to the fickle God of social Medaea. The rest will most likely be silence. Ba da bing, ba da boom. A pox upon having to be so goddman self aware!