It Ends and it Begins

I’m definitely starting to feel my age. On Friday, in honor of little Alex returning from New York for a monthlong hiatus, I found myself cold-sweating while downing Chivas all night at La Disco, then heading to Guandi not at all enjoying my state of stupor, as I usually do. Bouncing between three tables and not really talking or dancing with anyone, I left by my lonesome at 3 am and something just didn’t feel right.

Though I have kidded many a time about the vast difference between age 27 and age 26, there is some considerable heft to that whimsy. Not that there’s a wholly tangible demarcation between your late and mid twenties, but the years of fancy-free and self-indulgence slowly begin to emerge when your mind itself begins to recognize limitations, both physically and mentally. For instance, before venturing out on Friday night I stared numbly at the television screen, watching Mark Wahlberg and Charlize Theron zooming around in Mini-Coopers while transporting Edward Norton’s gold, and all I could think to myself was: What’s the name of this goddamn movie? My memory, once razor-sharp to the point of pachydermic proportions, has eroded to the point where my forehead literally bulges from trying to conjure up the title of oft-viewed (by me) Hollywood fodder. That most likely set the tone for the rest of the night, as I immersed myself in the comfort of Chivas but still could not completely escape the realization, at Guandii, that perhaps I am done with this scene. Youth ends and age begins, and only in the backdrop of the glamorous decadence of Shanghai does this fact become illuminated in such a stark manner.

In welcoming this inevitability, I did not venture out of the house for the entirety of Saturday, instead choosing to go online and surf for my old man’s cane and potential bridge partners for afternoon tea. When you’re at home doing nothing all day but feeling sorry for yourself and staring at a computer screen, you find a measure of comfort in realizing that there are probably millions of people out there who are doing the exact same thing: feeling their mortality. And what better way to solve it than to manufacture inane Internet nuggets, like this video of all the familiar voice-intro artists all in one car.

Fittingly, yesterday was Chace’s birthday, which made me feel slightly better about being old because, well, he’s even older. Not that he’s celebrating much, since I didn’t get to see him and I’m pretty sure no alochol was involved. Still, a birthday can’t go by without a beep, and I believe that in my malaise yesterday, a greater power was leading me to just the right method of celebration. Chace, here’s to you, in a slightly, no wait, VERY un-PC nod to your humble origins and your future aspirations. I KNOW somewhere on this lonely planet, Keith is going to get a crack out of this. Happy birthday, mate.