I saw The Good Doctor yesterday. He said with satisfaction my cholesterol/lipid profile and other basic tests were truly most excellent. Afterwards I awarded myself with rubbish from McDonalds. While I quietly to myself quietly eating my high-fat high-cholesterol happy meal, a group of urban youth came in and sat down near me. The lads, who must have been in their early teens, were loud and talked all at once. They didn’t seem to notice I was there. I felt invisible. Despite my stellar stats it made me realize I am approaching the age of the elderly. I’ve noticed oldsters are not ‘seen’ when they are out and about. They move like shadows among the younger ones, quiet and unseen. The shadows see each other though.

I felt again my age at the barber shop. The young man who cuts my curls hails from Jordan. I don’t know his age but his hair and beard are raven-black, dark as midnight. The burgundy bib catches my clipped curls and makes them shine like silver. I told Mr. Jordan once upon a time I had hair as brown as his. He smiles and nods, the sort I suppose older men get from younger men who are obliged to be obsequious but are inwardly swearing when they get to be my age they will be different.

I thought as I aged I would become an elder, a objiisan, but most of the time I sense I viewed as an elderly non-entity.

Sometimes Someone and I go out after symphony to the nearby ‘hip’ bar, in which the average age of the staff and such seems to be somewhere in the late 20s/early 30s.  Upon entering I feel we don invisible name tags, one saying “Statler” and the other “Waldorf”.

Older gay men have as an asset pups in their 20s often see us as the E-ticket at Disneyland. I sense it is more about the wallet in our pants than our other items but there it is. If you go for that sort of thing.

Another area of elderly advantage is my profession. Older docs, especially psychiatrists, easily channel Sage or Magician energies, especially if you have whiskers and sound a bit like Dumbledore or Gandalf or one of that crowd.

Oh well. I have good cholesterol and thanks to Mr. J a nice hair cut (including eye brows which were beginning to resemble Grouch Marx).

I ran 40 minutes today; I am in good health; I have a bulge in my pocket (a thick wallet).  I can rest on my silver locks that Life is good – for a ghost.