it is 9 p.m. on the day my birth is occasionally celebrated.
my husband is working late so i have an excuse to smoke cigarettes.
the best movie not to watch after a bad day at work followed by a little birthday loneliness: Lost in Translation. or is it the best?
i’m not sad, i just thought it made a nice moment on the back steps with a can of doctor pepper. i am scarlet johansson. i am philosophy with a new husband out on the town and a chance to make out with bill murray, but i won’t.
Usually, one of my aunt gets into a serious car accident on my birthday. Other birthdays, my grandpa has a stroke or my mom or sister or father or cousin break their foot or go to the hospital. Other birthdays i get engaged or return from a honeymoon is boston. One birthday my aunt tried to commit suicide. is that something i should have told you? I’m pretty sure it is a lie. It might have been jail. My cousin might have gone to jail. Other birthdays i am treated to dinners i will later be held accountable for. One birthday i got a color tv with a built-in vcr. In the 1700s, Napoleon was born on my birthday. Some time later, Claudia Schiffer.
Today the only casualty was (casualties were?) my new pin-striped pants. They were very chic until the zipper fell off for no reason.
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