The Great American Aesthetic Chasm of 08

When at work today, it was stated in a very plain and matterfact kind of tone by the City of Mesa receptionist Maggie, "You look like you're thirty or forty, you just look OOOLD" Now keep in mind that I hadn't seen Maggie in about seven months. Maggie had an apparent look of shock and slight disappointment that my aesthetic prime was casually and nonchalantly avoided, like a worn and tattered native american rug displaced on the I-60. This realization quickly caused me to react in the same way when I accidently left my wallet at Disneyland ; disastrously disorientation, nostalgic, afraid of the future (Tomorrowland), and a heroically hungry for churros . Her reaction to my rapid and exponential aging shook me to the very core, to my very soul, or what I like to call my "Soulcore" (let your mind wander with that one, it's a gold mine inside a diamond mountain. Also a freebee to all those who readers who are desperately looking for a 90's era cover-band name.) Not a even a mere three weeks ago I looked like this:I also had the superhuman ability to site on top of walls and like the Phoenix Suns.

This picture was taken approximately one day ago in my backyard.
I'm not joking, the rest of my life seems to be fated towards aligning with the movie Jack. I now find myself becoming angry and a bit enraged when no one acknowledges my presence when entering the local Walmart. Nebulous, apathic, and Athazagoraphobic are quickly becoming my favorite modes of being, while the thought of wearing brightly colored polo shorts and tops is quickly becoming agreeable.