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May 6, 2007
Itís odd getting old. You think there should be no difference. They look the same. They talk about the same things too. Itís shameful, really. Someone should give them crib notes so they can catch up. History does repeat itself. There I am, or a younger version of me, running projectors and sullenly participating in conversation. Thereís a replica of Joe, cracking jokes and spouting indie movie trivia. At the other theater they are older, more comfortable, settled, less to prove. I find myself relaxing, wanting to hang out, learn. The young ones are set on edge, make me lean.