Wednesday, November 04, 2009


I was talking to my friend Dups the other day, who expressed concern at what he views as the staggering loss of memory he's having. He's having difficulty remembering things from his past, but not more recent events. Now, for those of you who know this fine gentleman, you might suspect that the extensive qualities of alcohol he's consumed over the years might be playing a factor. Being a nice guy, I suggested just the sheer volume of life that he's lived might make it more difficult to recall some of the events in his life. Of all my friends, Dups is probably the one least likely to settle for an ordinary life. He's constantly out there taking risks and doing things that most of us consider insane. Like climbing mountains. Or hopping on the Trans-Siberian railway. Or climbing Kilmanjaro. Or quitting a safe job in this economy to launch his own business venture. And so on and so forth.

I kind of admire him, really. And I'm not doubting he's having some problems remembering stuff. However, I've noticed a certain...tendency among my circle of Muse alumni friends to have little mental breakdowns when certain big age numbers pop up. Dups, for example, turned 35 last week. For a man who once said to me with all sincerity he doesn't think he'll make it to 40, I can understand how the clock might be ticking a bit louder now. I had to talk another friend down off the edge a few weeks before he turned 30 because he had not, shockingly enough, completely altered the very foundation of western society already.

And so on, and so forth. I'll be turning 40 in a few months, so I'm almost curious to see what kind of mental breakdown I'm going to have with that. Alas, I can't continue the family tradition of buying an insane car when I turn 40 - father bought a Camero convertible and my uncle bought a Corvette convertible - so I'm going to have to think of something else. I'm not sure if the house really counts in that regard. It's entirely too practical.

Hmmm, all of this was going somewhere......oh right, memory.

Ahem. The point I was going towards that my own memory has always been a touch shaky at the best of times. I have a horrific one for remembering people's names and faces. That made my chosen profession for many years - a journalist - a touch tricky. Not quite so bad now...when I worked in my previous job and forgot someone, people just thought I was being an evil PR flack. Good cover, really.

So I mentioned the curling novel yesterday and attributed the idea to Clare when, in fact, it was Geoff Meeker who offered up the idea, although Clare did come up with that choice piece of dialogue. Sorry about that. For that matter, I've noticed a few other things I've put up on the blog as political fact later got corrected. So clearly my days of just going my memory on things I put up on the blog is coming to a close. Got to be a little bit more careful.

I actually had another point to this blog post, but I think I've rambled enough for now. Maybe I'll put up the thing I was actually going to write about later today.

Last Five
1. A girl called Johnny (live) - The Waterboys
2. Sliver - Nirvana
3. A message - Coldplay
4. Sunday bloody Sunday (live) - U2*
5. Birth (comedy) - Patton Oswalt


tanker belle said...

See, this is where you tie the U2 tix to your 40-related mental breakdown.

Can't actually see you having a breakdown, must admit, you're remarkably stable these days - that would Cathy's influence we think :)

Dups said...

Agreed with tanker belle, I think you're probably the one who will probably reach 40 with the most grace. I will admit that perhaps turning 35 was a bit of a shock to the system and that I will be dragged along kicking and screaming to all the high heavens. I will guarantee I will have at least 3 breakdowns before 40. I might not make it to 40 because you all might kill me before I get there due to my annoying behaviour.

And thanks again for the kind words.


towniebastard said...

U2 tickets are a pretty wussy splurge for a 40th birthday breakdown. I was leaning towards going whole hog at the San Diego Comic Con in July, but with a new house and all, we shall have to see.

And, you know, I've always felt like I'm some kind of anchor for my friends. Or a guideline. Like, "Oh, that's what normal looks like. Right." when they start to drift to far out of touch with reality.

Kind of depressing, really. I guess I was never destined to be the crazy one.