Monday, January 07, 2013

33

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground. 
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
-Pink Floyd, "Wish you were here"

On a sunny but wintry Boston morning, I am slowly working into my 33rd year.  I woke up a lil flat, but I am starting to rally. I find as I get older, it takes a little longer to warm to birthdays. But warm, I will.

I am heartened by birthday wishes coming in literally from all corners of the globe: Iraq, Israel, Uzbekistan, Japan, India, Pakistan, and on and on.

My brother Harry is here with me, and I have an auspicious day planned for us including falafel from Rami's (possibly the best in the US, at least top 5), a Chinese shampoo massage and later tonight a candlepin bowling birthday party.

Answers for my own 4 bday questions:
1) If you could have your bday dinner with anyone: Tyrion Lannister
2) Best Bday ever: Might not have been my best, but I had a great bowling bday party at Bowl America when I was 8 or so. 25 years later, I am having another bowling party- a candlepin affair
3) Where was I last year for my bday: DC- it was ok but kinda lackluster
4) Where will I be next year: India (ShivaShallah!) or The Shire

I will conclude this birthday blog with taking the liberty of posting a fav poem. This comes from "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, although I'm not sure its authorship. Harry (Sancho Harranza) found it, as all good sidekicks do.


There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that cant stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of gypsy blood, and they don't know how to rest.
If they just went straight home they might go far;
They are the strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

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