old deb don't you hate it when you go back to read things you wrote and wish you could take them back? i love to learn the hard way, i suppose... i should follow my own advice every now and then (see stain) ::sighs:: at least i can see him for who he really is now though it's too late again ::shakes her head and smiles crookedly:: no more of that, you 000102 ... deb don't you hate it when you go back to read things you wrote some time ago and wish you could take them back? i love to learn the hard way, i suppose... i should follow my own advice every now and then (see stain) ::sighs:: at least i can see him for who he really is now though it was too late again ::shakes her head and smiles crookedly:: no more of that, you 000102 ... deb (damn damn damn damn) i really hate that... 000102 ... girl he's 21 years old but he is the oldest person i know. my parents are in their 40's and he is older than they r. i think i may b getting up there myself sometimes. i feel so old and tired. 000326 ... maccie it's like you'd never die 000626 ... silentbob The Descendents What will it be like when I get old Will I still hop on my bike And ride around town Will I still want to be someone And not just sit around I don't want to be like other adults Cause they've already died Cool and condescending, fossilized Will I be rich will I be poor Will I still sleep on the floor What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get old Will I still kiss my girlfriend And try to grab her ass Will I still hate the cops and have no class Will all my grown up friends say They've seen it all before They say hey act your age and I'm immature Will I do myself proud or only what's allowed What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get old Will I sit around and talk about the old days Sit around and watch t.v. I never want to go that way Never burn out not fade away As I travel through my time Will I like what I find What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get What will it be like when I get old 000712 ... Zoe i don't think i ever want to get old. i know that probably everyone, at some point in their meaningless exhistances say that, but i really don't. i know too many people who were really cool untill they got old. when you're old you have all those health problems and crap! that's scary. 000717 ... Kasa ambulance trips to the nearest hospital ambulance trips return to residence ambulance trips return to local/health centre nurse ambulance air ambulance wards in hospital nursing in home nursing in hospital drugs accidental injury to natural teeth breast prosthesis single breast prosthesis double Wheelchairs and scooters geriatric chairs adjustable beds new walkers used walkers casts crutches artificial eyes larynx diabetic supplies blood testing machine testing strips ostomy supplies trache ostomy other oxygen CPAP hernia support neck brace air cast sacral girdles lumbo sacral corset shoulder immobilizer knee immobilizer back support corsets splints operative binder rib belt cradle support wigs knee braces foot orthotics embolic stockings compressors aerochambers nebulizer pulmo-aide space chamber physiotherapy chiropractic massage therapy chiropody/podiatry reachers canes raised toilet seats grab bars/tub clamps safety rails/toilet arm rests bath seats/transfer benches blood pressure monitors hearing aids orthopaedic shoes DRUGS 000829 ... daxle I don't think much about being old. I always think 5 years ahead and that's enough to keep me occupied. And there's no use planning past that because so much is beyond my control. Sometimes I think about my dad never having a chance to get old. It's turned him into some sort of jimi hendrix in my mind. Part of me believes "it's better to burn out than to be forgotten". 000907 ... vida he says the flowers smell like old people 010214 ... firehunden everyday day after the next one you will be different everyday after the next one you will be smarter, if you learn wiser, if you experience stronger, if you train older, if you don't 010224 ... geekyrocker "I love getting older, though. I just feel like I have more control over the universe." ~ Rivers Cuomo 010506 ... Miner Why when I am still so young, do I feel so very very old? Offline near enough all my friends and acquaintances are much older than myself, I understand and can communicate with older people far easier, and I have more fun with them. To often do I find myself saying things like "god this has changed, do you remember when....?", "it wasn’t like that when I had to do it" or "has it really been that long! Its amazing how fast time has flown by, it only seems like yesterday, not 5 years ago”? If I feel so old now, and my mind is so weary already, what chance do I have for staying at least reasonably young in the future? 010509 ... Nerb Old? What is that exactly. I see the whole World grow old, while i grow young. The World becomes Adult, as i become a Child. The World looks to Death, While i look to LiFe. My God has Saved us from death by death. I am not old but young. 010927 ... Inanna I did not want to write this... Sickly old woman Hiding behind her glass house Poor thing Alone with her mouse Her cat is now dead She makes her queen bed Sore thing Suffering in her head Bitterness is so sad She is really mad Playing sickly games Like a dumb child Is she insane? I can se her cry Copyright 2001 011002 ... Inanna see her 011002 ... ladybird is what i should not be at twenty, but sometimes i feel it all the same 020715 ... spaceship bahh as old as you feel. I have these memories of my parents at dinner after working all day "I'm getting old" but i will die but never grow old 030218 ... Patty When I get old, I want to be healthy and happy. I want to have the ideal, quiet cottage away from the buzzing, fast material youth, but among the fresh youths of nature and beauty. I want to be reminded of the beauty of life. I should probably focus on that now, while I'm young. 030504 ... charlie S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. LET us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question … Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— [They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] It is perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?… I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep … tired … or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: “That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . . No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. 031206 ... asf i am drunk... asdfhasd kjas asjfd askjdhf asjdfhaiur hfbvasdh vabcjadbv apsijcb najsbv aisu fhaskjbcaijs fbbanckac njas dasj bkasjbkjasbdc kjasbc akjcb asj bkajbv aksjb aksjbaksjhiwuskjbf 39 4rhisadfb3984roawjdfh 34 r98wq janso h9q830 oaiwf ow wqoi 832r uwqoiwq9eu . thank you, i klove you. 040327 ... ! Man (or woman) please, you can't do that here ! Do you know how many of us will be dreaming that's it's the one they love that is saying that ! So much false hopes for all of us. Tell her or him directly please ! :) 040327 ... Jen my gran has senile dementia and a prolapsed womb, and my grandpa has cancer of the throat. I don't mind getting old, as long as it doesn't hurt. 040913 ... T.S. Eliot I grow old. I grow old. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. 041001 ... f what's with the ! you leader you. . 041001 ... Aint No Am I old when people ten years younger then me say so? 061116 ... CT my shoes are old my house is old my gran is old the cheese in the fridge is old mold is old 070328 ... nr i miss writing but i have so much to say that i don't know where to start or if i'll want to read/hear it if it comes out. i can't think of anything i want that i'm not afraid of, so everything i have is mediocre. i am getting older. i miss the old days. 171103 ... thirty-one My back hurts. I don't have a lawn, but I'm ready to tell the kids to get off it. Health insurance. hydrating. wool dryer balls. 171104 ... f . 171106 ... f Grandma wants to have a baby but she's 70 years old so the baby will be given to god knows who to look after. She did that before and I'm not sure what went wrong or right. The fact is: she won't have any control over what goes wrong and its highly likely, coming from where she does, that the baby will not be ok where it is placed. Coming off HRT is this surprise of being able to create life, I just wish she knew what family she came from. 171106 ... unhinged this feeling of aloneness and exhaustion is prematurely aging my heart 171108 what's it to you? who go blather from