image stolen from commons.wikimedia.org
It’s my birthday today. I am thirty eight years old.
I had dreams of being pulled out to sea by storm waves. Woke up early and went out to the park. Neighbor was walking his dog. Told me there was a big car wreck down on Stadium Way. Went to the top of the hill to look. Cold fog hung around the trees. The evergreens were dead and brown. Marked with an X in spray paint; the city’s gonna come cut them down. Scotch pines. The tree my dad planted in the yard to commemorate my birth. That one was cut down too. Across the valley a murder of crows roosted on a dead eucalyptus. They were 500 yards away but as soon as I looked they flew off. Down on the road, fifteen fire trucks. A station wagon had hit a palm tree. It was spun around backward, crushed. All four doors laying on the grass, cut off by the jaws of life.
If I’d been looking for a portent for the coming year, well… fuck. Only thing that could have been more on the nose would have been the clouds forming my name and a big middle finger. Good thing I don’t believe in that shit. I rubbernecked long enough for my coffee to finish brewing. Then headed inside to drop a deuce. I’d eaten bleu cheese and arugula. The shit was historic. This was my portent. This year I will move mountains.
delicioustacos 
Happy birthday, it’s getting better man.
Happy Birthday DT
Apparently that shit’s more powerful than tea leaves.
Happy birthday. The big three eight, I always thought I would have so much at this age. George W Bush did not get sober till 40 , so it is always the beginning .
Happy Birthday.
[startscriptplugin]
Refsource: Expulsion-From-Womb
Refsource: Day
Refsource: Happy
AUTOMATED MESSAGE
Well, DELICIOUS TACOS you made it another year! That’s great! Well, I mean, it’s great if you consider it an accomplishment when this stagnant, drear, intolerable “Life” business we are all forced to participate in on this shithole planet flips over another year like one of those old split-flap alarm clocks turning over. Yeah, I bet you even woke up today feeling a little bit excited. Despite all your cynicism and misanthropy, a little part of you – that little part that dime-store psychologists like to refer to as the “inner child” – perked up just a little a bit. “Hey, today’s my birthday!” you thought.
Well, Happy Birthday, and try to remember that in the end no one fucking cares. That’s why this message is automated. It’s completely impersonal, just like every other relationship that you and everybody else in the world gets to have in your listless, worthless, shitty and now one-more-year past-it’s-prime lives. So go ahead, eat some cake and play some of your favourite records today as you add another notch onto the social odometer of age that we all use to validate our fucking valueless existences.
Anyhow, have a Happy Birthday, DELICIOUS TACOS!
AUTOMATED MESSAGE
[endscript]
This year, you will change for the better DT – a slow uphill climb
I knew it was your birthday and I was going to send you an e-gift but there were no alcohol options.
I don’t believe in that shit, but I believe in this shit.
“This year I will move mountains.”
my nigga
happy birthday dude.
move mountains = finish novel, become a published author, get with a funny & sexy girl, settle down with her.
meet you on the other side.
-ben
Faggot.
We share the same birthday, bro! Cheers!
your writing, which i stumbled upon while sort of annoyedly clicking through the manosphere, is moving and pertinent. i check often to see if you update. i love this. hi.
Try putting both of your bare feet on the toilet and squatting down (until the back of your ass barely touches the seat) and shitting. The poop slides out like it’s going down a laundry shoot. Even when you have goat shits, they fall out like your rectum is a broken gumball machine. I read on the daily mail that the chinese do it and it makes them immune to parasites and cancer. They have ancient wisdom. See the world in widescreen.
I dig.
Great podcast btw, you should do that more often
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