Episode 20 – Dad is very disappointed in you

As you age you begin to see the humor in starting sentences like “as you age.” You recognize that many, if not most, of the people who could learn from you have zero interest in doing so. You try not to speak in generalities and then watch as they fall out of your mouth. I love to be around people that I used to be. I also love the choices I’ve made up till now to continue being near them. What is strange is that for all the cynicism and “been there, done that” I have no idea what is next.

I don’t know what Dad has in store for me. I know my hands hurt. Enough that I have to consider whether I am going to partipate in a game or a chore that uses them. I don’t complain, because I know what that sounds like, but I am tempted to. I’m tempted to do a variety of things that I’ve seen people I may become do. You know old people stuff like give advice, mention ailments in litany like there is some sort of competition, move slow, act like I can’t learn new things, and maybe even be wise out loud. But I don’t exactly accept the arrangement.

I’m not ready to stop shaking things up or to turn things over to the next generation. I have no laurels to rest on. I have no retirement plan to speak of. That is what they did and my question, as an anarchist, is how to do aging better than my parents generation has done. How to not leave the earth an ashen crater, how to leave the people in my life improved for having met me, how to thrive in the company of interesting, vivacious, enemies of the state.

This means, yet again, challenging what it means to part of a political subculture. Political means we always consider the social, economic, and political climate we are in. Subculture means recognizing that there are 100 groups just like ours with different, but similar, obsessions about historical moments, mythologies, and other living people who make strange choices that don’t look like the American Dream. Are we more like the RCP or ICP? Are we part of a great history or do we mostly make shit up as we go along and hope that people don’t notice the difference. Are we writing our own history to hide the difference or because no one would tell our great stories better than we can?


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