Subtle changes cannot be ignored. For example, some of my family and friends think I’m crazy; some mollycoddle me; my associates in life consider me eccentric. The sensual Adonis that was here a little while ago has left, leaving behind only that which is diseased and broken.
Too often, my rational thought doesn’t square with the rational thought of others. Sometimes I want to try something new that already has been tried – I just have forgotten it.
Writing the post has been fun and even invigorating at times. I’m sure I’ve said everything I wanted to say, maybe more than once. Most subscribers never received sent email notifications anyway.
As to the alter egos, Chicken Little is in a rehab center; Amos, complete with a very hoarse voice, has gone to Mallorca to do some sailing. Guru can visit another universe at any time.
I worry a lot, though. I’m concerned for the future of my children and their children. I’m concerned about a democracy whose citizens do not want to share the work of maintaining a responsive democracy. I’m concerned that the planet has decided to move on, leaving the mammalian age to go it alone. And allowing Artificial Intelligence to infuse with our lives as if we were genetic twins; coupled with uncontrolled data corporations, is to think our lives are as real as those of the humans locked in their caskets in The Matrix.
Along with my fellow oldies, the world we know is rapidly disappearing. Scruples, economics, human interplay, even courtship is changing; I recently saw a middle-aged couple sitting in a restaurant booth; for an hour she was engrossed in her smartphone while the husband just sat there. So much for intimacy. But the oldies aren’t changing. They don’t relate to the new culture very well.
So it’s time to retire the Ancient Mariner.
It’s time to hang up the cleats (John Unitas’ high cut type, you know).