A ranting post, sorry

You probably wake up every morning and wonder what it looks like when I'm writing these blog posts. You'd probably expect some marvelous scene with brain dendrites connecting, an organized book shelf, pen and paper in hand to record unanticipated inspiration, and some kind of sophisticated drink next to me, just because I'm cool like that. You know, like an $8 frapachili that gets my mind moving in the right direction. Sorry to disappoint all of you, but that's not what it looks like. It's actually a dark, unorganized scene, wrought with distractions, pointlessness, ranting, and nothing that truly inspires. That picture above, that is the scene I am describing. It is the scene from which this blog is born... Thanks Margaret for letting us use your computer over there...

So for all of you profile-stalking facebook junkies out there, and according to the New York times you are many, you will notice that it is my birthday today. I don't even know how you know that, but there's something somewhere in the cyber web that tells you whose birthday it is. Am I correct in saying this? I think so because people that I don't even know exist are apparently my friends on facebook and wishing me happy birthday. I assume facebook is telling them because I don't know how else they'd know. Thanks for all your wishes people, even if I don't know who you are...

Yes, today is my birthday. I am 27 and haven't felt better in my life. Seriously, I feel great. But turning 27 does concern me. It doesn't concern me in that I'm getting older and more fully realizing my own mortality, or because I'm losing my hair, or because my car insurance doesn't give us the good-grade discount because I'm not 25 or younger. What concerns me is that age 27 has claimed the lives of some great artists, such as Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, and Amy Winehouse, to name a few. Actually, I think that's all of them. That's it? Seriously? I thought more would have died... Everyone kept raving about how all the musicians die at 27, but I've only named 6. And Amy Winehouse? What did she do that was so great? Man, I started this post today thinking I would describe my fears of dying at age 27 being the great artist I am (you've seen Bolts of Thunder and Bolts of Thunder Gone Wild's intros, you know what I'm talking about), but it's quickly turning into questioning the 27 year old club. Now don't get me wrong, I love all of the musicians above, except for Amy Winehouse (not that I hate her either, but I just don't know what she's done that's worth putting her in the same category as the rest. Correct me if I'm wrong here), so I'm not questioning them. I'm questioning the people that think 27 is a crazy year when everyone dies. Ok, wait, I just read more on the wikipedia page, and it gives a big list at the bottom of other artists that died at 27. But I haven't even heard of them. What about all the artists that died at childbirth? There's not a wikipedia page for them...

Ok, I can feel it right now, this post is really annoying some people. You are the members of the clubs that created the 27 club. You're probably the ones that killed all of the artists at age 27 just so you could create this club! I know too much... Either way, I'm not a musician, I'm just a bleeding heart and an artist, so I don't think I should have to die this year. And I don't think I will. So don't worry everyone, Bolts of Thunder will live on past this year, for better or for worse...