Birthday Wishes

Thanks for the birthday wishes, by the way (it’s on the 7th, if you must know). I figured on letting this one slip by quietly, since I’m going to be on the road and all. But it’s nice to be remembered (even if it was MySpace reminding you guys of it, hehe).
I’m not quite sure how I got to 41. I don’t have a problem with the number or the age. I’m not sitting around bemoaning my lost youth. I do sometimes wonder where all those hot young goth chicks were when I was young and fuckable. Now at my age, without a castle or at least a cool, satin cape … well, I’m a creepy old guy in a mini-van.
Oh, well. I hate uniforms, anyway. And there’s definitely something to be said for the experience of the ladies who are my age. Youthful exuberance can only take you so far, after all.
Okay, I’m trying to funny, but this is taking on a creepy ambience.
Mostly I feel like I’m just standing on a corner looking around. I know very well who I am and where I am. I’m just not exactly sure how I got here. I’m not lost, exactly. I just can’t shake the feeling that I left a trail of bread-crumbs behind me, and the whole time a gaggle of crows were walking behind me perusing the buffet. Bastids. I thought they were my buddies.
Of course, knowing crows, they’d figure they were still behind me, so they’d just proved they were my buddies.
Don’t worry if you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. I don’t know, either. If you’re one of those hot young goth chicks, you probably figure I’m just a doddering old man who’s losing his mind. That works for me. But before you go, could I see where that tattoo goes? I promise I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I may not remember you showed it to me. 😉
Besides, it’s my birthday.

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