Mar 25

With great age comes mild regrets


Now that I have reached middle-age I am increasingly haunted by loss — the loss of what might have been. I am giving up on some of my ambitions. Not the big and cherished ambitions. The other ones.

Skydiving: nope.

No. No I won’t read Finnegans Wake. I won’t even try starting it again.

Mogadishu: I will never see you.

I won’t win a hot dog eating contest. I am no longer tempted to enter one.

I won’t perform a solo interpretive dance piece called “White Seduction” at the Cape Fear Regional Theater in Fayetteville, North Carolina.

Never will I own a llama.

I won’t smoke a clove cigarette or drink fermented Mongolian horse milk.

And the darkest and most tragic one, the one that may return to me on my deathbed: I will never have sex with someone who owns a PT Cruiser.

Here some nice Mongolian people milk a horse