||[Jan. 5th, 2010|09:50 am]
I was buying a bottle of whiskey to share with my fellow concert-goers a few weeks ago in San Francisco. I was informed by the kind man behind the counter that i looked AMAZING... for my age. I am 28.
I remembered an experience I had a few years ago... I was probably 22, waiting in line for coffee somewhere, and a pair of 17- or 18-year-old ladies asked if the picture on my shirt was of a musician. "Yes," I answered, "It's David Bowie."
"Oooohhhhhhh... The guy from Labrynth?"
Who has those kinds of experiences at 22?
Apparently the same kind of girl who looks incredible for the ripe old age of 28.
I realized this morning that i am joining the ranks of aging ladies that look a little tired without a little makeup. In some strange way, I'm just looking forward to a time when my anachronistic tastes and sour personality can be boiled down to the kind of eccentricity that is only properly nurtured by age and solitude.