Tag Archives: 1973

Daichead a cúig / Ceathrad ‘sa Còig

Today is my birthday, and it’s a bit of a milestone — call it a half-milestone.  Most people are cool with their birthdays while some folks get weird — self-conscious about aging, resentful about past celebrations, attention seeking … whatever.  And then other people poo-poo the B-Day folks for wanting to acknowledge their birthday, passing judgment that it’s childish to observe or celebrate.  In the end it is what it is to the B-Day boy or girl, and if you can’t say something nice then keep your garbage to yourself … which is about the nicest way I can say that.

Oh … Dear Reader, please note…

If you’re thinking that this is some friendly-happy blog-post about my birthday, it’s NOT.  This is more of a hard-core truth and you might prefer to opt-out now.

Aww crap — did I just write a “trigger warning”?!?

This is how much a day-hike in Washington State sucks.  Forgive me for asking you to subject yourself to this horrific-ness with a drag like me.

Five, six, whatever years ago I gave up on trying to celebrate with my “friends“.  I’d make plans that I thought were interesting activities, doing something I like to do — which was usually going on an autumn day hike, which is BEAUTIFUL here.  I’d make invites a few months in advance, and as the date grew closer people had more important things to do and canceled — one time the last 2 people canceled on the day.  In many cases these were folks who maybe I’d only get to see once a year … birthday

So it became None.

Fine, I’ll take this elsewhere…

I gave up on trying to celebrate my birthday with any of my friends — the people who mattered to me and I understood it was mutual.  I’d make it to their celebrations, but when it came to mine … they were “busy”.  After enough years of this I found that it was healthier for me to detach — detach from whatever it was that was the difference between my understanding and theirs, detach from wanting to do something with people I thought I got to share some happiness with in this life, detach from thinking that someone might be interesting enough to stop and do something different with and essentially say “I’m glad you’re here with me.”  So I don’t know if I’m not cool enough, or not interesting enough, or because I don’t drink it doesn’t look like it’s going to be a fun enough time for you* to celebrate with me … FINE … if you can’t play with me for even part of one day then I’m not playing with you.  Which is about the nicest way I can say that, too.
(*I just thought of a term — “Drunktard”.)

Don’t get me wrong – I’m no longer angry at these “friends”, these humanish-people things, whatever they are — but I am angry.

I am angry that we grow up, we ‘become adults’, we have families, careers, and these develop into excuses.  And excuses for excuses — and licenses for excuses — but hear me when I say…

It is all BULLSHIT.
(Oops, I didn’t say that “nice“.)

I am angry that the best folks can do is leave a little Happy Birthday message on a social media* site.  I can barely give a single slice of (a turd) when I get a text saying “Hey — Happy Birthday!” but a person can’t pick up their same phone and call to say the same???  I am angry that the more technology connects us the more disconnected we become — but hey, the other person pushed a button, they did something to acknowledge their friend/loved-one, so they can move on to the next thing on Their All Important To-Do List.  I am angry at human conduct in my perception and opinion that appears to be inauthentic.
(*I’m so old I remember when “face time” meant actually spending time together FACE TO FACE without an “e-” in front of anything.)

Yeah — this Robert Palmer

Robert Palmer wrote in the New York Times (1980s?) about the singer of another band and what that person had to say in their lyrics — that…

… not feeling is the ultimate obscenity.

Palmer was pointing out that to this other singer experiencing life fully with all the good & bad parts is of upmost importance while we are here, while we have the opportunity, and that shutting down or disconnecting in any way is missing it.  I think it can similarly be said that being inauthentic is an ultimate obscenity to this beautiful experience we only get one chance at — just one! birthday

Every year now I tend to go silent for my birthday.

If someone does happen to call or (god help me) e-message me I’ll meet them where they’re at — I won’t shove them off, I’ll at least say “Thank you.” to a text, but I’m also not putting anything out for anyone to go do anything with me … I wouldn’t want to ask them to put themselves out — how inconsiderate of me!

More than anything I go silent online.
Am I isolating?  Maybe, but I’m also not allowing for the bullshit to come in either.

I don’t allow posts on my social media locations because on most days there are folks who cannot conduct themselves with adequate decorum  with their postings.  I guess because of their bullshit version of rugged individualism where anything flies — “And if you don’t like what I said, screw you, I gotta right to express myself — UNGH!”  This means I don’t receive the George Jetson happy birthday posts either — and GOOD.  …And now Facebook has started doing these charitable-birthday-cause things?!?  “Instead, for my birthday, I’m asking you to donate to some seemingly good cause that you don’t have to care about, just like me.”  I don’t ask for those — if how folks fail to connect with me is any indicator, then any good-cause I might select wouldn’t get anything. (*insert chortle*)

But here is The Good Cause I ask for my birthday…

  1. Get rid of your Excuses.
  2. Get rid of your Bullshit.
  3. Put down your Keyboard, let go of your Mouse, get away from the Computer and TV Screens. #disconnect
Like this but with a shorter pier…

Get your calendar and your pen and write the birthday of each person you care about on it and check it regularly (or set it up in your phone, it doesn’t matter as long as you do it).  Contact these people and ask them out to lunch or dinner for their birthday — your treat.  Get that same pen and some paper and write that someone an authentic note to add to a birthday card — fuck the card, it’s the note that matters.  Get together with that person for whatever it is that they want to do even if you don’t fully think you’d have fun, because it’s not about you.  Get real and acknowledge that this is really someone you care about or not — and if you can’t do that GET LOST.

When I think about this I’m lonely;
When I don’t think about it I’m just alone.

For years now I’ve liked the idea that if I had the money I’d take a trip  for my birthday — hell, I’d take myself out to dinner but I can hardly afford to do that.  I might tell people where I’m going & when I’ll be there — be it dinner or the trip — and if I see them there then good.  Sure, the trip asks more expense and I wouldn’t expect people to show up, but when you tell folks enough in advance that you’re going to be at this restaurant or that bar and they don’t show up, can’t show up, have some excuse … then are they real?  Are they really in your life?  Are you really a part of theirs, or are you just a cog who serves them in some way?

If any of those questions resonate with doubt for you — dear reader — then maybe it’s time to take your little red wagon elsewhere and play with some better kids.  Or is this just some bigger problem, that as a society our intimacy is dying?  Or maybe as my non-bagpipe-related-posts go I should just shut-up and stick to reviewing zombie films …. like that matters.  One of the nice things about playing Highland bagpipes is that while you’re playing you’re all alone — you can’t hear bullshit, you’re just in the music.birthday

 

 

“Be kind, be real, or get out of my face.”
~ Pete Townshend, 1992 in a writing about The Who ~
birthday

Further Reading

The Crazies (1973)

The poster is arguably cooler than the film.

(Written part way through viewing the film…) The Crazies (1973) is probably at least a 1/2 decent film but it doesn’t adequately hold my attention. After rating it Red Blood I should probably watch it again sometime when I’m sitting still — I’d like to see how it influences the 2009 version of the film. This film looks like it was made in the 1970s — oh yeah, because it was! The look of it, the story telling, the fashions — everything — all of which just adds to the campiness of it. (Written after viewing the film) The film seemed to end without a point — which isn’t to say that it didn’t have one, its more that it generally didn’t hold my attention well enough to notice one — all of a sudden a guy stripped, got lifted out of the danger zone, and the credits started rolling amid some paltry excuse for a 70s-ballad style song.

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