Lonesome, Onery and Old...

Yep. I've been 32 for about an hour. Not a very memorable one, I reckon. I turned 29 in Los Angeles, at this bar called Molly Malone's. I was all by myself. I remember that night I tried to talk to the cute red headed bar tender. She had kind eyes and not quite American accent. But I didn't make much of a dent on her. She probably thought I was just another drunk, which I was. I remember thinking that I turned 29 twice, because I was basically still on Eastern Standard time, so I figured I turned 29 to my friends and family back home and then out in LA three hours later. That was a lonesome time for me. Now I'm lonely again. Funny how that works.

I turned 30 at Charlie's Steakhouse in Greenville, which is one of my all time favorite establishments. It opened its doors in 1910, and you could film a period piece in there without changing anything. I always drink Miller Highlife out of 10 oz glasses there. There was actually about six bottles in a beer bucket when I got there that night. Courtesy of my mother. My parents and my brother chipped in and bought me a new Telecaster becuase mine had been stolen about a year before. Good Birthday. Nothing crazy-family, cold beer, and a new guitar.

I turned 31 in one of America's loveliest locales, Augusta, Georgia. I was playing with my friend Doug at a Wild Wing and I swear I only drank one beer all night-until the end. The owners were there and were big fans of Doug's, it leaked out that it was my birthday, and we stayed there taking shots after the bar closed. I had been so successfully cautious about taking it easy with the booze that night, that for some reason, and sort of subconsciously, I thought I was in the clear. But I wasn't, I puked on the way back to the house where we were crashing and then, the next day, on I-26 right around 95, I projectile vomited all over Doug's car. I told him to pull over, but it wasn't fast enough. I blocked some with a shirt I grabbed, but luckily it was all water and a little bit of Coca Cola. Sorry, Doug.

So now I'm 32. Which feels oddly similar to 31. I don't know what a young Mac would think if he saw the old guy he grew into. Some of it would probably be a little unexpected. Some of it is pretty par for the course. Tough to tell, considering that old Mac can't look in the mirror and get a real handle on it. It could be better. It could also be worse. Either way, I'm still here. Its not such a bad place to be.