On Birthdays

I stood in the parking lot. Overhead I saw seagulls and other scavengers flying in a circular motion. I immediately took out my phone and used it to check my pulse…just in case they knew something I didn’t.

Yes, today is my birthday. 365 days have passed and I didn’t die of causes natural, unnatural, or self-inflicted. Whee! To this homeless guy, birthdays, like any other celebratory day (i.e. Christmas, 4th Of July, etc.) are days I wish would pass quickly. I don’t really have anything to celebrate, and even if I did, no money to do so. I will work my ass off today in hopes I can make enough to keep my motel room another night. I can say this; New Year’s Eve won’t be spent with a drink (I don’t drink), sparklers, or a midnight kiss, because NYE is when hotels (and for some reason…motels) jack the shit out of their rates knowing many tourists visit LA/OC to ring in the new year. So a big shout-out and fuck you to Conrad and Maggie from Elko, NV for doing their small part to change my motel rate from $60 to $139. Love ya kids!

But I digress. Birthdays…I can’t decide if I want to be remembered by some people or not. If everyone forgets me (save my mother of course) I figure people are busy preparing for NYE. But if 1 or 2 friends wish me Happy Birthday (there won’t be any “Happy”; maybe they can just say “Hey Rick…Birthday!”), then I wonder what the fuck is up with my other friends who didn’t say anything. It’s my own personal mind-fuck of course but it IS my mind so if I want to fuck it, my prerogative. Same rule applies to my pet llama.

I know some people say, “Oh it’s just another day” to be unpretentious, and I used to say it too when I had a few francs in the account. Secretly I wanted a national holiday and a parade with Halle Berry as Grand Marshall. But now I really mean it. All I care about is the chance to make a living doing what might be my only discernible talent…to make people smile, laugh, chuckle, guffaw, piss themselves, whatev.

And I want to have a real roof over my head, so I don’t have to worry about cramming a bus full of possessions into a broken Camry, finding a safe place to park, and closing my eyes for a few hours.

Happy Birthday? Nah, just Birthday…

NOTE: A few people have read this post and texted me, “Birthday!”. I’m kinda hoping it catches on. Would be nice to leave that little legacy of reality when I run out of birthdays.


Leave a Reply