Life begins at 40. A contradictory sentence. On April 7th, a Sunday, I will reach that age. Forty, like the HIV/AIDS mass disembodiment event.
I have nothing prepared. It's like being born again. The first time, it didn't went well. Now that I get a second chance, I wish the mistakes are new and exciting, and not a mere repetition. Mom and Dad are both in Heaven, and they can't repeat anything they did. So any error is my own, and that thought feels good to me.
Maybe I should become a writer. There is no risk in it because few people read. If I was not severely risk-averse, I would try making videos or podcasts, because that medium is king right now.
But I've started "becoming a writer" before. I'm a great starter of things, not so much as a continuator. So I left that many times in the past.
This week there will be noise in the streets: the Holy Week Processions. I might go again to **see** the noise of the drums, although last year I said I would not repeat.
The Holy Week is the time of the year when I force myself to be near many people. The other fifty one weeks I avoid all contact as much as possible. I've always done that, the avoiding. And the disembodying, for I was born, alas, in both the the year 1984 and the novel 1984.
If big brother is everywhere that means we are forever little siblings: criticized, overprotected, discouraged, unstable and unsafe. It's always been lies to protect me from the risk of life. The lies are also an electrical phenomenon that contributes to the disembodied experience.
Being lied to always about everything and all the time means that you have to not be there.
That's the marching orders from The Party's Ministry of Love: Be Not There!
Then, they see you depressed and the irony slug fest starts: "Agent Roger, your problem is that you are not living in the present, you have to live in the present, don't worry about anything, we'll take care of you."
It's so funny when the people who love you commit "Accidental Darkness".
So much fun being a mere analyst of life.
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I will do something I've never done before. I'm going to buy a stupid smartphone, brand El Cheapo, and I'm going to record some videos of the Semana Santa, and I will upload them somewhere. If I follow through this project, I'll post links. Maybe I open a substack site just for this.
Although I will be kinda doxing myself if I do that. Maybe I shouldn't. I'm still 39 and I still have a right to be shy.
—Agent Roger, posted as comment here.
[Note: This kind of post represents the beginnings of our possibly-maybe “magazine.” It appears as a comment, but re-appears as a piece of writing with a new title.]
Roger, we share a birthday though I will be turning 65 on April 7. Age of 'retirement', as if every human being has a precise timeline when s/he should be put out to pasture. In other words, made irrelevant.
My dear, from someone who has survived cancer (twice - without chemo/radiation, collisions, many catastrophic setbacks and trauma), I can confidently say that life begins again (and again, and again) when you decide it does. Or not.
The sad thing is that we don't learn this in adolescence. And yet, I've still had a remarkably interesting life with few regrets. It's a cliche that people on their deathbeds say they should have followed their heart and worried less about what others think. I think it's the one universal truth that we should all live by.
Happy early birthday fellow Aries!.
🫂😊💗🍻💃🎉🎁🎂
As they say, it's the first day of the rest of your life. Rejoice in your aliveness and make the most of it!
There is a certain weird freedom in recognizing the lies are everywhere and one has to make deliberate, thoughtful choices about how to live. Thank you for writing!