Going through the manopause then?
Lol!
Is that another informed opinion on the matter?
No, just considering options for having the best life possible - aches, pains and joint creaks arn't all that fun.
Believe me, they haven't even started yet at your age
Are you assuming my age?!!
Well, it tells me your age on the left hand side of your post unless you've entered the date incorrectly
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. |
Trust me, at MY age I tend to do my research ( many hours ) before I entertain or contemplate such a thing. I tend to not act on a whim but on a series of researched evidence and cross experiences and first hand accounts from other people where i can get it.
Again , similar to the Nootropics post - I get it if some people just are happy to gracefully accept the natural march of time upon their body and mind without wishing to explore methodology to combat & slow this.
I am not one of those people.
So there is no need to try and talk me out of an intent or thought process.
To borrow from one of my favourite poets.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.