Shit...I'm Fifty-five!
Shit...I'm fifty-five.
I'm halfway through my life. If the rule of two thirds applies, I've got about 18 more good years. I wish I wasn't losing my hair.
And I wish my boy Johnny was still alive. I named this painting after him:
It's called "Self-Portrait 2; That Boy Could Sure Eat Some Beets."
The self-portrait part obviously refers to me. The "sure could eat some beets" part stems from long lunches Johnny and I used to have in the window table at the Gramercy Tavern (back when we were business men and could afford eating oysters, drinking chardonnay, flirting with the hostess and staring out the window at the snow coming down on a gray, 20th Street afternoon).
We used to discuss, among other things, what we wanted written on our tombstones. It was an ongoing topic until one afternoon when JB tore through a roasted beet salad the way a hungry lion eats a sick wildebeest. After that we agreed that Johnny would get "That boy could sure eat some beets" written on his.
Me? The jury is still out. Maybe I (actually it won't be me; it'll be my children) should just inscribe the words "The Annotated Geoff" and leave the rest blank. Next to the stone, in a little cup, would be a small hammer and a stone chisel. People could write their own stuff.
If forced to go in a more conventional direction, and because I'm a little self-absorbed, I'd vote for "sic transit gloria mundi." Literally translated: Thus passes the glory of the world.
This, however, comes from Wikipedia:
I'm halfway through my life. If the rule of two thirds applies, I've got about 18 more good years. I wish I wasn't losing my hair.
And I wish my boy Johnny was still alive. I named this painting after him:
It's called "Self-Portrait 2; That Boy Could Sure Eat Some Beets."
The self-portrait part obviously refers to me. The "sure could eat some beets" part stems from long lunches Johnny and I used to have in the window table at the Gramercy Tavern (back when we were business men and could afford eating oysters, drinking chardonnay, flirting with the hostess and staring out the window at the snow coming down on a gray, 20th Street afternoon).
We used to discuss, among other things, what we wanted written on our tombstones. It was an ongoing topic until one afternoon when JB tore through a roasted beet salad the way a hungry lion eats a sick wildebeest. After that we agreed that Johnny would get "That boy could sure eat some beets" written on his.
Me? The jury is still out. Maybe I (actually it won't be me; it'll be my children) should just inscribe the words "The Annotated Geoff" and leave the rest blank. Next to the stone, in a little cup, would be a small hammer and a stone chisel. People could write their own stuff.
If forced to go in a more conventional direction, and because I'm a little self-absorbed, I'd vote for "sic transit gloria mundi." Literally translated: Thus passes the glory of the world.
This, however, comes from Wikipedia:
Traditionally, papal coronations are thrice interrupted by a monk (some say barefoot) holding a pole to which is affixed a burning piece of flax. After it finishes burning, the monk announces, "Pater sancte, sic transit gloria mundi." This is meant to remind the Pope that, despite the grandeur of the ceremony and the long history of the office, he is a mortal man.Hey, baby--ain't we all? I'd like to sleep with Penelope Cruz once before I die.
posted by Geoffrey at 5:40 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home