Before the movie was the book. Some of us read it years ago, or perhaps it was decades ago. I remind you of that to say that some thoughts about my new age have been stewing for a reaaaally long time despite the recent release of some certain film, so here we go with a wonderful summary of some of my feelings from The Great Gatsby.
I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade.
Thirty—the promise of a decade of loneliness, the thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair.
And now, a song.
Ah, there is hope. Maybe there will be more on this subject later. I had a lot to say a while back, but the day has snuck up on me, hiding itself behind the busyness of work.