I’m 38.
I don’t know how I feel about that. On the one hand, everyone tells me I don’t look it. I’m probably in better shape than I was ten years ago.
On the other hand, several of my favorite poets had written their best work and/or killed themselves by now.
I was going to go out for lunch with some girlfriends but one of them is having a crisis so we’re going to convene at another’s house with all the kids and try and give her some support. I don’t know how I feel about that either. What’s the line? I want this to be about ME for a change?
I guess I’m just having some birthday blues. I’ll get over it.
NOTE TO SELF: Vodka shots solve nothing…
Happy Birthday, you young girl, you!
Happy Birthday my friend and fellow July birthee. You do look great (for any age) and I am glad that your best work isn’t behind you and that you are still among the living!