I've been going by the wrong age for about a month now. I even put it in a blog how I was 28. I'm not 28. Pretty concerning knowing that Alzheimer's tends to be hereditary. Looks like Grandpa might have handed down more than his hairline. I found out over the weekend that I'm actually 27 while at my friends birthday party. Here's how the conversation went.
"Damn, 29 huh. One year away from the big three oh."
"I'm 28 idiot. I'm only one year older than you."
"Exactly, I'm 28 so you're 29."
"You're 27 moron."
"Oh."
I'm excited for 27. I think 27 is still mid twenties, where a week ago I was in my late twenties. So I feel young again. A lot younger than my brief stint of being 28. Only problem is now I've opened myself up to join the 27 club.
Joplin, Hendrix, Cobain, Morrison, Winehouse. TKJ? Seems like it fits. The more I think about it my health has started a shockingly rapid decline since my last birthday. Sometimes I wake up gasping for breath like an invisible hand had been blocking my airways. Was my sudden wake the result of catching God redhanded trying to rob humanity of another great? Could be. That or its the overwhelming amount of take-out I order while being a borderline alcoholic with a bad smoking habit. Either way, head on a swivel.
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