I watched the movie Young Frankenstein at the theatre tonight.
Before the show, there was a screening of Mel Brooks at a theatre somewhere,
slowly climbing three stairs to a large stage.
His tie was garish and crooked, and his face was gutted by age.
a few of his old cronies were in the audience, the rest are dead now.
he will be, too, probably soon.
the film was funny but I kept thinking of the conveyor belt of life,
like the toasters at restaurants where the bread goes in soft and white
on the left, travels through a heat zone and drops out the other side brown
and crunchy. Sometimes it falls in the trash. Mostly it gets eaten, nutrition
for another life.
I think about these things alot
I see the youngster in every old face, a jump and a hop in each
leaden step, the bright eyes behind every cataract.
I wonder if everyone goes through this phase of looking
at death, not imminent, but creeping up every minute, hour and day.
the years go by and Mel Brooks and Gene Hackman are very old.
President Obama entered office with black hair and is now grey.
I enjoyed the movie and I laughed.
It was a good movie.