I'm twenty-three today, which means I'm rapidly approaching the age at which I'm supposed to have made something of myself. Strange. This is also the first birthday I've had where I was in a full-on relationship. It's good, it turns out. Yet this whole birthday didn't have much build-up for me. It just sort of washed over me like another hurricane through Florida: No one noticed.
Watched "Mulholland Drive" with Spence last night. Never realized that Irene's baggage is two rectangular blue suitcases. Like the blue box? Maybe not, but the suitcases do vanishes temporarily.
I'm drinking tonight. If you're reading this and it's still my birthday, come downtown. I really have no choice in the matter. The power company is shutting down power on our block from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. tomorrow. Funny thing — I'll be blacked out, too.
Oh, and for reference, here's what was goign through my mind on my twenty-second birthday and as close as I posted to my twenty-first. Though posted later, this one shows a picture of what I looked like the night of June 4, 2003.