Hey, Girl. I see you checking me out. I know what you’re thinking.
Here is one fully digital baby boomer stud, cute, too. I’m obviously
one of the youngest members of my geezer cohort. I’m totally engaged
with the brands you care about on social media. In fact, all my shit
on Pinterest is stacked in the closets of one or the other of my
country houses.
Go ahead, run you eyes more slowly over my Beats headphones by Dr. Dre
with the Bluetooth 4.0 hookup from my Galaxy 8 running android ice
cream sandwich 3.4, which hasn’t been released yet that I got from my
lawyer pal who’s on the Google board.
You want the rush of dating a fellow millennial, but also a partner
who can show you a wider world? You don’t have to choose if you date a
Boomennial.
My colorist says this ash-blond do she gave me is more blond than
gray, but I always remind her I’m all about keeping it real. Body fat
ratio, not as sweet as when I was doing all those triathlons, but
still not too shoddy.
Yeah, I read TechCrunch and Pitchfork. I know the guys who own Book
Thug Nation, the used book store in Williamsburg. I go to their band
rehearsals.
They wanted me to be their roadie, but my trainer says I shouldn’t
lift asymmetrical weights like amps when I’m pumping iron under his
supervision five mornings a week. If you want to look at my heart
rate, skin temperature and VO2 numbers from our sessions just log onto
my fitness Tumblr at boomennialbiometrics.tumblr.
And look, I got to be straight with you, even though I have a few
sites up on Tumblr, I’m really loyal to Blogger platforms because I
feel they are the true successors to the zine scene of the 80s, where
I created that Bukowski homage rag, Short Shot, that all the curators
want to stick in their retrospectives.
You like Arcade Fire? Last few years I’ve been spending a few weeks
with them up in Montreal between tours helping out with lyrics and
their streaming feeds. I’m like their Robert Hunter. Oh, never mind.
Dick pills? No, never did need them and I suppose I never will since
I’ve been visiting that Swiss clinic where they infuse my blood with
testosterone and the slow release version of those meds. Nice chance
to check on my place in Verbier and do some helicopter skiing while
I’m in town. Fondue there is so killer, too.
You smoke weed? Sometime I’ll show you this trick I learned when I was
driving cross county with Neal Cassidy, you know, the original of the
hero in “On the Road.” It’s no big deal, just rolling a perfect joint
with one hand while I’m driving what my last millennial girlfriend
used to call Brently’s Bentley. I introduced her to some of my
director friends and now she’s this big mumblecore diva. Neal showed
me how to do that and a lot of other moves that it would be, you know,
premature to describe to you, as a potential sexual partner, if you
can stand the accommodations in that expensive little hotel in
Florence, where I’m thinking we could do a bike tour.
Might not be the same thrill as barreling down the Williamsburg Bridge
ramp with one of your millennial boyfriends with the cut handlebars
riding fix after spending the night on E at that nightclub on Wythe,
but the rolling hills with the olive trees and the old monasteries all
over the place might be OK. Safer, too.
As long as we’re in Tuscany, we might as well stop in at my designer
friend’s shop in Pisa and pick up some new outfits for you. He gets
all the latest stuff from Milan. I know it won’t be the same aerobic
workout you get in the rugby-like scrum at Century 21.
We’d have to sit in the back of his shop while his assistants serve us
cappuccinos and they bring in the clothes on those rolling tables. The
other problem about shopping at Gianni’s is he won’t take any Euros
from anybody I’m with because he’s so grateful for the venture money I
got for his kid’s start-up.
I’d say we could go to my skin diving house in the Seychelles, but I
loaned it to my pal the French rapper MC Solaar this month. I had to
give up my hotel particulier in the deuxieme because I was spending
all my time in London inventing that new form of house music that my
dj friends in Berlin are always bugging me to spin in their clubs.
When I’m on the decks in those dives on the K’damm, don’t nobody got
no FOMO.
What’s that? Do I own a sports team? Well, attendance is way off and
I’m afraid our game doesn’t mean as much as it used to, but, yeah, if
you count major league baseball, yeah, I do own, with some other
investors, a team. I’m really more interested in creating new
distribution platforms to enable our fans to access our content
anywhere, anytime on any device than what goes on in our stadium, but
. . .
