The Birthday Address: Reduce Wrinkleys.   Leave a comment

They sent me this because they knew it was my birthday:

After the age of twenty-one, your body slowly stops releasing an
important hormone known as Humawn Growth Hormone.
The reduction of Human Growth HormIone, which regulates
levels of other hormones in the body (including testosterone,
estrogen, progesterone, and melatonin) is directly responsible
for many of the most common signs of growing old, such as
wrinkles, gray hair, decreased energy, and diminished
sexYual function.

Houman Growth Hormone

– Boost your immune systeLm RufZNwrl xbNLvjq
– Rejuvenate your body and mind ZjTXyLYh TpEoZD
– Feel & look younger ELvYQuMn MZKNN
– Reduce wrinkleys, lose weight, decrease cellulite iZOtiIf TveOnv
– Restore your setx drive and vigor EuXtgrhY LUmATY
– Revitalize your heart, liver, kidneys & lungs nTwyHlHQ VLzqQ
– Maintain muscle mass nGlTjHFt NYAMKu
– Refresh memory, mood and mental energy aknZ zXwXEIE
– Sleep soundly and awake rested vFqUWiiD wRMdyg
– Help eliminRate stress, fatigue and depression wHFhcGrqF RncPRK

Read http://smilingdoctor.net/hgh/index.php?pid=eph9058 for more information

unpLimW tPrkD wJJngqU ntAHKgzZ toRUJ gjxpxtImL VQtFCwK
TqamRHYY hYhx PctXlGm JaXYL ROUxqqi kIjzBQyA ZwHxm
IFjWkyGlw EYnuTLL jVYTfyuX WVWt

I was going to do a special birthday address where I railed against the average person’s ignorance of or lack of appetite for weird-but-good music, but the whole thing is so depressing that my fingers can’t be bothered to type it. The thing that gets to me, or one of them, is that when I play music on the shop stereo nobody ever comes in and goes “hey, I love this album” or even “what is this? I’m intrigued” and it’s not as though I’m always playing something forbiddingly obscure. Most of the time its pretty safe stuff so I don’t get into trouble for frightening off the customers or interfering with their purchasing patterns. Examples would include, say The Magnetic Fields, Dollar Brand or Anne Briggs, or in case you think I’m trying to out-taste you, the first World Party record (I was in love with this girl once and she played it a lot y’see). I do actually play a lot of regular stuff that you would expect people to have heard before and maybe have some emotional connection with that would dissolve the social barrier between them and the tired-looking guy at the till and prompt a spontaneous attempt at human communication, but no. It astonishes me, for instance, that I can play Talking Heads in a busy wholefood store without anyone passing comment.
I dunno, at some point last week I suddenly got the feeling that my marginalized position in society was somebody or everybody’s fault but mine and a grand speech came into my head. I think I was in the shower. It was something that involved an analogy between fast food and corporate pop/rock/dance bollocks, which is a pretty well worn analogy I know, but there was a cleverer bit that I’m struggling to recall now. I guess I just think, genuinely, that weird music is good for you. No…good music is good for you. No…it’s like people seem to use music in the wrong way, like they consume it rather than…ahh…I know, you know, its obvious etc. Who gives a shit anyway, but I tell ya, when I’m king it’ll be Nurse With Wound at school assemblies, and so on and so forth. Fucking cunts.

I think its just because I had a birthday and it was shit. I understand the psychology of birthdays, and normally I force some sort of gathering on everyone and the day is duly celebrated in an honourable fashion, like standing up to a bully or something. I know these people who fear the birthday and hide away, sheepishly letting slip that they got a year older last week, or worse still organising at the last minute an awkward pub visit that people have to attend with the kind of reluctance that shows. Anyway this year I sort of caught that disease and felt myself getting more and more Eyore-ish until the day itself, when the weather turned dark, wet, windy and vile, and I sat alone in my room all day and didn’t eat anything apart from an apple and a few stale dried apricots. I thought that Pizza Express with my little family would cheer me up but Syd was over-tired and in constant tears and they gave us the wrong desserts and it was crap. However, little chinks of light in the blackness were provided by:

1. My parents’ cards/gifts, which I was genuinely moved by, which is a little unusual.
2. The moment where, as we pulled up in the taxi at the restaurant a small child, no older than 11 and probably younger, dressed in an outsized coat, suddenly materialized at the driver’s window and thrust out his arms and said “big hug!” like the Teletubbies do, with his face right up in the drivers’. He had this precocious look of insane humour too. Very funny.
3. As we were leaving the restaurant, rather wearily it might be added, I got the chance to sit in the lobby and watch the piano player while Sam and Syd went to the loo. He was this old dude in his fifties with a waistcoat and a red face, glass of chilled white on top of the piano next to his music, and he instantly de-stressed me like some sort of magick doctor. The stuff he was playing was yer typical meandering Cole Porter/jazz lite restaurant piano, but it was more his body language that made it enjoyable for me, because he was subtly swaying and bending and cocking and tilting his head, as he negotiated the score, like he had only just enough skill to play it, but that didn’t make any difference whatsoever to the amount of fun he was having doing so. You could tell that he was absolutely in his element, and that being paid was only a bonus on top of the joy it gave him. I couldn’t help wondering if the other unseen parts of his life took more effort and gave less pleasure, because he seemed to be really drinking deeply from the cup as it were.
4. After more re-stressing associated with bathtimes and bedtimes (“why is daddy quiet?” Uh, that’s helpless rage kiddo.) I came back to mine where the Egg brothers were getting cheerfully wasted, so I hosed down my middle-aged pain with teenaged fucknedness one more time, and it worked.

Posted May 5, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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