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Thirty My birthday. So many things about which to think, so much for which to be thankful. First, and most obviously, thanks to the thirty-some people who showed up on Friday night and drank with me (and to those who didn't drink, but still showed up). This morning, for some reason, I faced the city with renewed strength, determination, a feeling that something good was going to happen. Maybe I should talk to my father every morning before I go to work. I still need to do laundry and clean my room. Perhaps tomorrow. Tonight, quiet, low-key dinner, hopefully with a few close friends. For now, the lyrics to a song which I've made a tradition of listening to on my birthday, penned by Johnette Napolitano and James Mankey of my beloved Concrete Blonde. It comes from their 1989 release, Free, and it's called, appropriately enough, "Happy Birthday". Outside in the hall, there's a catfight Oh, rock me to sleep, strong and deep Neon in the window They're at it again next door Smokin' out the window Fly me out the window Here's to a year of wondrous changes... Oh, and as a sidenote, one of my best friends is currently in a town to the north of Paris, where all this rioting is going on. I understand its causes, but it is a wrong-headed response to a bad situation. My friend tells me that today, a man taking a photograph was shot in front of his wife & child by rioters. Sarkozy's comment that the rioters are scum has been taken out of context and believed to mean that he referred to all inhabitants of the poor ghettos. In fact, he was referring to the rioters, as I am now. They are scum -- vermin. As such, they must be exterminated, for the good of France, of Europe, and of the world. It is not an easy solution, but it is the only one. God help us all. r
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