I'm Melting!
Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West, although I've been known to swoop about on my broom, yelling and screaming. The kind of melting I'm talking about has nothing to do with spells or brooms...it has to do with aging.
Years ago, I'd see people from high school and we'd instantly judge each other. I could see it in their eyes. These were the jocks and cheerleaders, I was alternately a rebel and a band geek. Back then, it was about checking for boob jobs, nose jobs, steroids and if someone had become a bohunk of the oily variety. One of the most wonderful moments was four years after graduation when the captain of the football team, the dude who went out of his way to make my life a living hell...pumped my gas. I admit, the second I saw him, I rolled into Full Service. And he was really, really nice to me. There were also the ones who became welfare mothers, and I always felt sorry for them. 4 kids all from different fathers. Hand out. Hag's cackle. Always made me grateful for moving back to L.A.
But then there were the successful ones. My high school wasn't a cauldron of academia. Yes, I participated in Academic Decathlon after they pleaded. I hated it, but I did it. I went to every study meeting really stoned, sitting in the corner with my Walkman. Won the speech contest the day of. If only I had graduated. Anyway, all the successful ones had moved away, so I only heard stories, never witnessing this in the flesh. San Luis Obispo County's job market is dismal. The California Men's Colony where Manson gang member Tex Watson resides, Atascadero State Hospital (for the criminally insane), Cal Poly State University, Cuesta College, two hospitals, and the nuclear power plant. And that's it for good jobs.
I apologize, I've veered off the path. So, in our 20's, some looked great, some didn't. In our 30's, we pretty much knew who was gay, who'd done porn, who was a stripper and who was incarcerated. Some guys started losing their hair, getting a little paunchy, women got fat asses and their boobs headed for the floor. But our faces still looked good. Or at least close to what they were.
And then came the 40's. Oh, how depressing. I say I'm "41 and holding." So here's the truth. The big 3. At least for men. Hair, wrinkles and fat. I have all my hair and no wrinkles, but I'm fat. Some of my contemporaries in their 40's are slender with hair and a face like a map. Some have youthful faces, beautiful bodies...and a baseball cap glued to their heads at all times. But slowly and surely, we're all melting.
I saw L---- C------ at the Arclight in Hollywood, dancer from the 1990 Madonna Blonde Ambition tour, co-star in her movie, Truth or Dare. I wouldn't want him to say what I'm about to say about me. But I was never famous. Cute Puerto Rican guy, kinda queeny but still fuckable. He's still cute, but now worn, the corners of his beautiful brown eyes headed south, a little thicker, speckled with grey, and he's slowed down. He appeared healthy and happy, surrounded with friends. But he's melting. A couple months ago, Robert Gant, Ben from QAF ran past me, shirtless, body flawless. I saw him again the night I had a close encounter with L--- C------. He looks the same as he did years ago, his beautiful spirit intact. P---- A----'s assistant parked her black Range Rover next to me, and we rode the elevator up together. We were at Barney's in Beverly Hills. She was sweet and complimentary, her face wrinkled in the strangest way...somehow they cover it up on T.V. Saw R---- W---- P--- in the cafe, she was at a table behind my friend. Hag. Saw her a couple weeks later at a red carpet event. Makeup and night did wonders for her. Saw Brendan Frazer on the way out...he's very handsome in person. Hot is the word. And tall. Shoulders for days. He's 41 and holding.
I could go on and on with examples, citing heroes who have shriveled, the cruelty of age eating them alive as they gradually melt into dust. What do we do when our heroes get old? At least with our contemporaries, all we do is check for damage since the last time we saw each other.
Of course it's cliche' but youth truly is wasted on the young. I no longer have the energy, the child-like wonder, and I don't gloss over flaws in people and the world like I did. The world was a more beautiful place.
But this all has one upside. If anyone fucks with me or anyone I love, I will do something about it. Young, I let them walk all over me. And my friends have said the same. We intuitively know how to handle things that used to baffle us. And we're melting.
Years ago, I'd see people from high school and we'd instantly judge each other. I could see it in their eyes. These were the jocks and cheerleaders, I was alternately a rebel and a band geek. Back then, it was about checking for boob jobs, nose jobs, steroids and if someone had become a bohunk of the oily variety. One of the most wonderful moments was four years after graduation when the captain of the football team, the dude who went out of his way to make my life a living hell...pumped my gas. I admit, the second I saw him, I rolled into Full Service. And he was really, really nice to me. There were also the ones who became welfare mothers, and I always felt sorry for them. 4 kids all from different fathers. Hand out. Hag's cackle. Always made me grateful for moving back to L.A.
But then there were the successful ones. My high school wasn't a cauldron of academia. Yes, I participated in Academic Decathlon after they pleaded. I hated it, but I did it. I went to every study meeting really stoned, sitting in the corner with my Walkman. Won the speech contest the day of. If only I had graduated. Anyway, all the successful ones had moved away, so I only heard stories, never witnessing this in the flesh. San Luis Obispo County's job market is dismal. The California Men's Colony where Manson gang member Tex Watson resides, Atascadero State Hospital (for the criminally insane), Cal Poly State University, Cuesta College, two hospitals, and the nuclear power plant. And that's it for good jobs.
I apologize, I've veered off the path. So, in our 20's, some looked great, some didn't. In our 30's, we pretty much knew who was gay, who'd done porn, who was a stripper and who was incarcerated. Some guys started losing their hair, getting a little paunchy, women got fat asses and their boobs headed for the floor. But our faces still looked good. Or at least close to what they were.
And then came the 40's. Oh, how depressing. I say I'm "41 and holding." So here's the truth. The big 3. At least for men. Hair, wrinkles and fat. I have all my hair and no wrinkles, but I'm fat. Some of my contemporaries in their 40's are slender with hair and a face like a map. Some have youthful faces, beautiful bodies...and a baseball cap glued to their heads at all times. But slowly and surely, we're all melting.
I saw L---- C------ at the Arclight in Hollywood, dancer from the 1990 Madonna Blonde Ambition tour, co-star in her movie, Truth or Dare. I wouldn't want him to say what I'm about to say about me. But I was never famous. Cute Puerto Rican guy, kinda queeny but still fuckable. He's still cute, but now worn, the corners of his beautiful brown eyes headed south, a little thicker, speckled with grey, and he's slowed down. He appeared healthy and happy, surrounded with friends. But he's melting. A couple months ago, Robert Gant, Ben from QAF ran past me, shirtless, body flawless. I saw him again the night I had a close encounter with L--- C------. He looks the same as he did years ago, his beautiful spirit intact. P---- A----'s assistant parked her black Range Rover next to me, and we rode the elevator up together. We were at Barney's in Beverly Hills. She was sweet and complimentary, her face wrinkled in the strangest way...somehow they cover it up on T.V. Saw R---- W---- P--- in the cafe, she was at a table behind my friend. Hag. Saw her a couple weeks later at a red carpet event. Makeup and night did wonders for her. Saw Brendan Frazer on the way out...he's very handsome in person. Hot is the word. And tall. Shoulders for days. He's 41 and holding.
I could go on and on with examples, citing heroes who have shriveled, the cruelty of age eating them alive as they gradually melt into dust. What do we do when our heroes get old? At least with our contemporaries, all we do is check for damage since the last time we saw each other.
Of course it's cliche' but youth truly is wasted on the young. I no longer have the energy, the child-like wonder, and I don't gloss over flaws in people and the world like I did. The world was a more beautiful place.
But this all has one upside. If anyone fucks with me or anyone I love, I will do something about it. Young, I let them walk all over me. And my friends have said the same. We intuitively know how to handle things that used to baffle us. And we're melting.
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