the bastard is actually a pretty ungrateful guy it seems
he turned 41 today.
and while the virus has informed him that over 70 people have wished him happy birthday on the virus, he's out on his balcony wondering when the last time it was that he had a truly happy birthday.
don't get me wrong, any birthday where I didn't wake up dead is a fucking gravy birthday but I can't remember when it was last when I had a storybook happy birthday with presents and shit.
where I wasn't drunk.
when I got something I always wanted wrapped in a big box with a bow on it and i was genuinely wide eyed with anticipation at it's contents.
nope. can't do it.
maybe it's just the whole getting old thing.
maybe it's just because birthdays aren't meant to be special when you get past a certain age. because you want to make sure that your kids feel special.
yeah. I think that may be it.
but I digress.
on the virus, a guy I did a triple bill with 20 years ago shares a birthday with me.
we did a show 20 years ago tonight. I turned 21. and I was doing a show with my bad at the time.
that was kind of special. so maybe it wasn't wrapped up in a bow but a jack Daniels and coke 20 years ago was the first present I bought myself at the beginning of the end of all things special.
maybe I'll by myself a new bike next year. I hear one rumbling away as it leaves the midtown tunnel ambling towards points east.
that'd be nice. you ungrateful old man.
lucky ungrateful old man.