But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here…
So I turned 30. Well, they say that 50 is the new 30, and that 40 is the new 20. So I guess that 30 is the new 10. This explains my dating life to a tee. To be perfectly honest, adulthood really hasn’t hit me. At 30 you should feel like you are a full fledged adult with real expectations and responsibilities. Yeah, I have a mortgage and car payments, but I still feel like I’m late to 3rd period geography. I stammer like a hormone ridden 15 year old when I meet a pretty girl. I still don’t know how to fix a carburetor. I’ve always felt like a punk kid.
However, things changed a little today. I climbed into my car this morning and turned on my satellite radio only to find that Sirius had once again rearranged all of my stations. Instead of the wonderfully eccentric channel 24 Disorder (the channel that plays whatever the fuck they want), I find myself listening to the new channel 24 Lithium, playing all of your 90’s alternative and grunge music, giving you non-stop Nirvana, Soundgarden and Screaming Trees. “Songs you danced to at your high dance.”
It took my breath away. I’m not old enough to rate a nostalgia station. I’m still an awesome dude who can go to the late night coffee house and read my poetry and pick up Goth chicks. I’m still working up nerve to get a really cool heroin habit. I don’t need any corporate stooges pushing plastic crap down my throat. I’m still able to get a badly photocopied zine to turn me on to the latest tunes from the underground.
Then a haunting voice comes through the speakers wailing about that poor man in a box whose eyes are sewn shut. Why don’t they make music like this anymore? This is the stuff that angst ridden dreams are made of. None of this Nelly Furtado crap. Those kids play their stereos to loud and wear trashy mid-riff clothing. There are real life issues here like the state of my libido (which is somewhat like a mosquito). President Bush promised me from his lips that there would be no new taxes. There is a war brewing in the Middle East that might turn into a world war. Things are serious.
Wait, I’m a decade behind myself. Is it wrong that songs about our sun turning into a black hole or about a kid named Jeremy getting pissed off at school bring a smile to my lips? Can I actually get nostalgic about the undeniable fact that the world is a vampire?
Who cares, I can still get a detachable penis and if worse comes to worst, I’ve still got a dyslexic heart. Anyway, I’ve got to go work tomorrow . . .