So, last Thursday, August 21st was my thirty-first birthday. It was also International Sex Day, coincidentally enough. (More on this presently). And now, as I begin my fourth decade on this planet, I thought it would be nice to share with all two of you that will actually read this my perspective on what it means to be thirty-one years old.

For starters, I still play video games. I’m only about half-way through GTA IV right now. And I’ve procrastinated on that by turning my attention to Technocop, Strider II and Bart Vs. The Space Mutants on my Sega Genesis. Why? Probably because I’m a stupid jackass. But it dawned on me that I had never beaten those particular games and decided it was time to try.

I still read comics. Oh, it is not as easy to come by down here in Bolivia. So, I stick to trade paperbacks rather than buying them on a weekly/monthly basis like I used to. That, plus the fact that all the comics I owned (including several trades that I will have to purchase again), together with my entire collection of Stephen King hardcovers and all my CD cases (some with autographed liner notes) were lost when the storage place I was using in NY dumped all my stuff… Because I was a few days delayed in payment and stuck in the middle of Buttfuck Bolivian Wilderness with no access to a phone or internet to rectify matters in due time.

That happened a few years ago. But, as I’m turning 31, it dawned on me how much value I placed in such material nonsense.


I’ve had a marriage begin and end before the age of thirty. Not sure why it happened. But, if pressed, I’d have to say it probably happened because I still play video games and read comics.

Can’t see any other reason. I drink in moderation… Should say: drank… Because, now that I am free, it’s gone back to how it was before. Which is, still in moderation if moderation means stop before 5 on Fri-Sat and 3 on Sat-Sun because Sunday is your day with the kid.

My favorite thing in the world to do is perform with my band. But, I’ve been so busy with other things lately, that we haven’t gotten around to actually doing this in over a year. We did perform in a giant jam session with all our musician friends at the party for the lead guitar’s wedding last May. So that was fun. (I never thought I could have that much fun singing Cheap Trick’s Surrender)  And, if anything, the dark events of this past year have given me plenty of fuel for writing the next album. Not sure what it means yet, but it will most likely result in an insufferable collection of whiny white-boy tunes the likes of which would make even Stevie B puke out of his ass.

People say thirty is the new twenty. They say this to be nice. But I don’t feel old. Oh, sure, I feel kind of old when I go over to my buddy Ron’s house and hang out … Meanwhile his 12-year-old tries to turn me on to Hannah Montana and Cheetah Girls and Jonas Brothers and Kudai and Panda and RBD and whatever else the fucking kids are listening to today. But, thank God for Guitar Hero. It has made it possible for me to share with her some of the music that I deem worthy of a listen. And I have to. Because she’s my de facto niece and Ron’s got awful taste in music.

Wisdom comes with age? I don’t know. I don’t particularly feel all that much wiser than I did at 21. I still pretty much like the same things. The only thing I know for certain is I won’t make the same mistakes. Isn’t that what they say? That man is the only animal who won’t trip over the same stone twice?

Wish it were true. But, yeah, I guess I won’t make the same mistakes. I’ll just make new ones. That’s what life is for and all that garbage. It’s interesting. We’re the bullshit test-drivers for our kin. And then our kin jump in the bullshitmobile and crash it just like we did. Sometimes into the same fucking tree. Life is funny that way.

All I know is that I’m 31. And I feel exactly the same as I did 5 or 6 years ago. I can still pretty much eat the same crap and the farts still smell the same. And I can hold just about the same amount of booze and vodka is still the one that turns me into a bad drunk.

Unless its Absolut with freshly-squeezed OJ and no sugar. Then I’m aces.

You know what? I’ll just let Aimee Mann put words in my mouth. She pretty much sums it up (as usual) in this track off of @#%&*! Smilers

Oh… And that thing I was supposed to double back to later?

I didn’t get laid.

Now you know everything.