It is quite fitting that the evening before my birthday I went to see Iggy Pop and The Stooges. The man is 63 (today I turn 36), and boy is he an emblem of eternal mental youth! If he can still rock pretty much naked and command a stage just like in the late 60's/early 70's, well, I should just shut up and get on with it. Seeing these guys now, you get unadulterated energy of raw proto-punk with matured skills of great musicians. Shame for the sweaty 60-year old next to me losing his day-time composure and dancing way too close for comfort. Sure, Raw Power was an odd album, and the Bowie mix was pretty awful, but The Stooges and Fun House stand the test of time perfectly well. Yep, a great gig.. and no sign of the puppet from the car insurance advert.
So, birthday considerations? I am not going to bore anyone with all the good things I discovered in my 30's, and why life looks pretty good from where I stand. These days, also because of a sudden professional twist of fate (more of which later), I seem to have it all. In all honesty, I am blessed. I am incredibly lucky and have no reason to complain.
But, there is always a but.
And I think I'd rather go to hell than get bored to tears in heaven.
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