Yesterday I went to the mall. Never a particularly enjoyable thing for me – but yesterday was more grotesque than usual for a number of reasons. One that sticks out is the young man who walked up to me, handed me a packet of cream which he admonished me not to drink because it was called Merlot cream, and said, “Let me put this on your face and erase those wrinkles.”
My face is a portrait of my life, man. My wrinkles are part of my life. I earned every single one. Erase my life? Why in hell would I let him do that?