i believe that i believe
christ we believe in some shit, don't we? i remember standing below a bolted-in television set in a downtown Winnipeg bar, watching in bewildered awe as a white Bronco careened along a LA highway, trailed by squadrons of police cars, while this girl beside me, beneath her silver eyeliner, commented, I don't think he did it, I can't believe he did it, he seems so nice. and so it went with lance armstrong, and iraq, and housing prices. afghanistan and a-rod shortly to follow. and, personally, still praying for the olympics to burst into flame.
your forties are interesting this way; you've reached an age where you almost don't believe anything that anyone tells you, where almost everyone sounds like the east german women's swim team. you might even have *less* respect for authority than you did as a teenager.
the only difference is that you think more but say less. the shift is towards more understanding but also more resignation. a kind of illuminated incurability. keep your head down, move away from the crazy person.
maybe this is where hobbies come from.