Thirty


It’s my birthday today. I’m 30 years old. Now begins the introspection.

It’s a weird age to be, I guess. You’re not a kid anymore, but you’re not a full-fledged grown-up, either. (I think that hits at around 35.) You can’t drink as much as you used to, but you can still handle Thai food without your insides betraying you. Too old for high school girls, too young for the Golden Girls. It is the perfect age, in fact, to declare yourself the son of God.

Thank you to everyone who called/emailed/texted to wish me happy birthday. It worked. I’m going to go drink whiskey and sing karaoke and smoke all the cigarettes in Portland.



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