Oct. 9th, 2012

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Whether voiced, verbalized, or unvoiced, there's this expectation for someone to grow up or to act his/her age. I haven't been victimized by it verbally, but I have the distinct notion that some people that I at least used to know have come to think this and have maybe even communicated/propagated over fine wine this astute observation of theirs that I need to synchronize my maturational age with my chronological age -- which would be downright baseless for having bemired my very name whilst engaging in the fine art of imbibition.

Drawing away from my ostentatious shawl of paranoia -- and bypassing the bosom that isn't very prized anyway -- let us focus on my face, the focal point/fulcrum/quincunx/linchpin/whatever center of ugly-mass. (Actually, since this is a journal post, focus would be on the fingertips accosting this keyboard and effecting this post.) After having become mesmerized by more pervasive verbal nuclear warfare on Facebook, I was rendered vertiginous and couldn't stop; wouldn't stop clicking through the links...and reading the comments from many comprising evolution's most marginal. That may have been rather harsh, so I suppose I should just say that such people could lend potential energy to my opposition to their rights to vote for the reason that they are natural (or chosen) enemies of the [human evolutionary] state (a state not to be confused with the polity). Actually, that was harsher, but I throw my silk glove down and return to relevance.

This is all relevant because there have quite clearly been bends/shifts in and adjustments to maturational age, thanks to social media. Political circus ringleaders who are noticeably advanced in age compared to me have been warring with tactics pulled from the encyclopedic wealth of those a third their ages. If there isn't an Orange/Red security alert for their chronological-maturational age disparities, then why would there have to be one for me? How do we gauge age? Why would I conform to the obligations of my age (get married, have babies, eat myself into beluga status with reckless abandon -- which I've already achieved and exceeded anyway)?

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January 2013

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