What the frick is an amortal? Some opportunistic pop psychologist from the US has written a wanky book about amortals. She invented this term to describe older people who refuse to grow old, a bit like myself (I'm not classified as old unless you're under 30).
I read about it in an opinion piece in The Sydney Morning Herald.
Apparently, I'm doing all those things young people do like exercise, trying to look my best without resembling mutton dressed as lamb, going to gigs and getting on with my kids by treating them as equals. This is considered selfish and delusional, as older people are required to fulfill some cultural norm where we grow old gracefully by wearing rayon frocks (I guess men wear corduroy trousers), becoming sedentary, going to church and maintaining the appropriate emotional distance from our kids as they get older.
Amortals also fear death. Seriously, who doesn't except eejits who think it's all about pink marshallow clouds, ethereal creatures with soft wings and floating around without any hunger pangs, desire for a glass of Veuve or a quick f****. Death happens to the best of us and the rest of us. It's a fact of life.
I am not ashamed to admit I fear death. I think about it a lot. I don't want to die. I want to swim in the ocean with the fishies, write a bestselling novel (also an amortal characteristic), eat a lot of good food, play loud music, watch sunsets while gurgling Veuve, walk along the beach holding the hand of my ageing partner (after we've had a quick f***), laugh with my kids because we can be friends and enjoy my freakin' life without being told I'm a superficial old prat.
Old age is inevitable. I'm not that stupid to think I can do what I am doing now forever. But why not do it for as long as I can without looking like a fool? I know my kids will set me straight if I get up to anything even mildly embarrassing.
There, now that's off my chest I'm going to bed. After all, it's almost 9.30pm.