I have lived, and I have the scars to prove it.
Here in Southern California, where lines, wrinkles, sags and bags have fallen way to the wizardry of the cosmetic surgeon, I stand alone. I love my imperfections. And there’s a lot to love.
I have lived thru battles with rough edges, gravity, knuckles, a few bb’s and an arrow. And with it, some rust and wear. But I’m still here. Sure, I’m not as pretty as Matthew McConaughey, but I don’t need to be. I’m a guy. We have different rules. Seriously, would Jack Nicholson still get sex if he were a woman? (That sounds wrong, but you get it.)
I don’t mind getting older. Why? Because, it’s better than a face full of dirt. As a society however, we have decided that youth is king. TV, movies, magazines celebrate youth. But it’s really a den of fear. Of age. Of death. But not me. I like my cars,wine and women with a few miles on em. Life is to be lived. It’s said he who has the most toys when he dies, wins.
That’s not true. It’s whoever has the best stories. And the scars to prove them.
~Chip Franklin 1/16/12