"The Clap of a new generation"

HEP-C. Do I have your attention yet? The MBTA has recently put up a new banner advertisement across their buses. To replace the hip-hop artist Common and his sexy soulful AIDS scaretisement. Hepatitis scaretisements. Just when I thought it was safe to have sex.

It reads:
"If Hep C was attacking your face instead of your liver, you'd do something about it." This text is overlaid on a picture of a man looking like he had his face mashed in by a lead pipe. I have a natural anxiety over any information displayed that might scare the hell out of me and make me question my wellness. However, that isn't the reason I was disturbed by this ad. It really was the fact that they called it Hep C . It somehow just bothered me especially because it really sounded like Pepsi in my head. I don't need any more irrational fears especially not of my favorite sodee.

Also, isn't "Hepsi" incurable? The answer, according to http://www.hepcfight.com/ There is no vaccine. Well at least I have a new fear fueled now by the knowledge that Hepsi can be transferred by cuticle scissors. I guess my desire for good grooming is putting me a great risk. I shall now be merely pushing my cuticles like common folk. I laugh and I joke because my anxiety demands it, but Hepsi is common enough that it is should be called attention to. Four million people in the U.S. according to Wikipedia. So, at any depressing rate, check out the Hep C Fight website to see the ad. It reminds me a lot of the Fight Club DVD cover.

You got the right one baby.

It's all very real now.

Explain it all to me. Please. I’m listening. I know it may not look like I am; but I am. Or least I’m trying to. You have a lot to tell me. I have a lot to learn from you. Simple things really, like what happens when things don’t go your way, and how you keep your cool. I may need your recipe for baked ziti. I didn’t really like when it I was a kid but now it’s something I couldn’t live without. What if you left before I was able to get that recipe? I’d never have your ziti again. Sure, I could come close… That’s sickening. Not the spaghetti, just finality. Death really stops me from experiencing anything about you. Not a single time more do I get to shake your hand. I don’t get to hear the laugh that you sometimes let out when you really find something funny. I wish you didn’t have to leave. I know it is something that has to happen, but really it's so cruel.

Every day people lose someone and tragedy overwhelms them. For some just a day is all it lasts, if they aren’t too attached. Maybe a week for others, and some like me could absolutely never get used it. I know you’ve had the same problem as well. You never got rid of the ghosts in your mind; they remind you of all the bad times of the past.

It’s probably better not to dwell too hard on those losses. How can you possibly live your life if you consume yourself with memories? It’s bad enough that we relive memories all the time from the recent past. It’s really painful when we have to picture ourselves younger and see a more energetic lifestyle. Where did it go some ask? I’m sure you know. I know too. I’ve been there watching TV until three in the morning watching shows that don’t interest me. What kind of life is that exactly? How can you go on living your life through someone else’s all the time? It’s so passive, so dirty. I can develop some real self hatred after a twelve hour binge on the couch. Yes, there are some entertaining shows in there and thought provoking ideas. All the while though I’m being blasted with jingles and thirty second skits about products I never needed before and probably don’t need now.

Give me conversation. No wait. Give me a desire for conversation. I could be having funny conversations about my friend’s sour love life. I don’t need to hear Chandler talk about his. It is silly sometimes when I think about. I know conversation like that is particularly and purposefully humorous, but I also know that many great friendships have been bonded as a result of conversations that lasted until three in morning and TV wasn’t a major player. Out on the black tar in parking lot of a strip mall is what I prefer. It’s provides unheeded summer breezes and cars to sit in when it gets too cold. The light can be just perfect if the spotlights are still on, enhancing someone’s natural beauty in the way that bar lighting is dim enough to make us look pretty.

I was walking by a store front window at quarter 'til nine in the morning and I suddenly catch a glimpse of this fat older guy. He looks like he's been up drinking all night. His attire just reeks of older creepy guy, something like a bright blue polo shirt. I'm thinking "Man, I am way cooler than that guy." Until of course, I realize it's me.


When did I get so fucking old looking. I know I have a baby face in terms of my face's unwillingness to grow manly hair barring a neck beard, but I have age lines and chins where there were no chins before. Is this adult puberty that I'm entering? Is my voice going to change? Ear hair? Already I'm older than 60 percent of the people at a given rawk concert.

I'm thinking something drastic is in order. I'm thinking nose ring... Dyed hair... cocaine problem... MTV 24 hours a day. My youth she is no more. I thought it would be when I turned twenty eight, but as it turns out it is only 25 and 3/4.

Maybe I'm overreacting. Perhaps I'm not that old looking. Just a little older. When I was a kid there were changes all time and I never questioned those. Why should I be upset about a smile line here or there. No big deal. I'll just have to start moisturizing now. Oil of Olay you've saved me! No, not likely.

I still have my hair. That's a positive. You age pretty fast with no hair. Although..... I have been noticing the front of my scalp seems higher than before. I'm going to have to inspect that.

Plastic surgery is always an option. It worked for Dick Clark.