It doesn't actually have to be this bad.
But it is--- I accept it, but that does not mean I have lain my arms to rest.
Birthdays suck. Mine was today, September 13. I am now 32 years old.
I do enjoy the reaction of people when I tell them I do not like celebrate a passing of another year of my life. It puts them off, they bitch and groan about how negative I am, how dark-- etc. It gives me giggles.
But I'm not totally un-serious. I think it is more of anti-ego thing-- that I should celebrate my entrance unto this earth. The day does both- mark your entrance into life and mark the passing of another year of your life.
Much like how I handle my spiritual beliefs and my vegetarianism; I do not give flak to others that believe differently. I will not deny my daughters festive celebrations of their birthdays, nor will I not make a special evening for a lover or good friend. I do subscribe to a belief that we are karmic creatures and that flesh and blood is just a suit, that we come around again and agian until we have learned as much knowledge so that we might transcend to a higher plane of existence. Call this Nirvana. Call it Heaven. Call it continuous blow-jobs and warm Guinness on tap while shooting pool at a table that is perfectly balanced whilst Bukowski and Blake and Cummings and Parker and Rimbaud hang out reading their latest after-world writings to you with Coltrane and Eubie are playing in the corner.
WE ALL HAVE OUT OWN BLISS-DONT FUCK WITH MINE
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lookee!!!! an online gift!!! are artists kick-ass or what?
