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19 June 2009 @ 10:16 am
Old age rears its ugly head...  
Tomorrow morning I turn 40. I'm not super freaked out about it, but it definitely makes me think about what I have--and more importantly--have not accomplished. For instance, when Mozart was my age, he'd already been dead for five years. When Kurt Cobain was my age, he'd been dead for thirteen. I suppose it's fortunate then that I'm a would-be writer, rather than a would-be musician. Writers get cut more a bit more slack. Henry Miller didn't publish his first novel until he was 44, Raymond Chandler 51. I could still totally beat those guys. Maybe. Like if I was writing right now instead of watching "Tao of Steve" on cable. Damn. Wait, wasn't Laura Ingles Wilder like super old when she started writing?

ETA: Ha... the movie just quoted Lao Tzu's "The sage, because he does nothing, never ruins anything" to justify a lifetime of slacking. Excellent!

Pallaspallasathene8 on June 19th, 2009 11:49 pm (UTC)
Ingalls, Gridley. Laura INGALLS Wilder. The first book starts out something like "Sixty years ago..." so she was sixty-odd-something. You've got at leeeeast another twenty years. But she was also busy churning butter and crap, so unless you are going to also be making butter with your time, I think you should write faster. :P

Have a wonderful birthday!
Diary of an Ass Monkeyassmonkeydiary on June 23rd, 2009 04:37 am (UTC)
Oh, yeah... and thanks!