Birthday wishes

Oh, another birthday is rounding third and about to steal home. I am thrilled and feel what the religious folks called "blessed" that I have no material or emotional desire that has not already been met. What luck and joy that I can honestly say that a giftless birthday would not leave me lacking in any way.

As true as that statement is, I'd be mad not to ask the universe for a few small things. One of my good fortunes is that some people in my inner circle might want to buy me something. It would be downright selfish of me not to make a list of birthday wants, I tell ya!

This is all I can think of for now. I used to own the two movies below, but I was foolish enough to lend them to a stupid, blackhearted dog who never returned them. Live and learn.

Amazon.com: Thomas Bickle: my stuff

Movie: League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Movie: Shallow Hal

Blue Devil Action Figure

That's all I can think of for now.

Appended 5/22/10:

Religulous (2008)

Hitch 22: A Memoir

An excellent problem

Exactly a week from now, I am faced with the slightly embarassing luxury of an entire day devoted to my own enjoyment. After performing the minor miracle of arranging weekend days off for this major event in a minor life, I have before me the pleasant task of devising an itinerary, its only purpose to maximize my own gratification and the celebration of my birth.

My feeble imagination has only cranked out two desires so far: French food early, and stand up comedy late. The French food we've got covered, with A Taste of Brittany's website advertising an early opening for breakfasts and lunch, and yesterday's e-mail Newsletter, in an intriguing coincidence, advertising a new chef and menu starting on the very day I'll be there. It's like they knew, and are celebrating my birthday with me! Okay, maybe it's not, but life is more fun with your own, willing hallucinations. Ask the religious, they'll tell you.

Stand up comedy is providing its own challenge. There's an attractive show at Modesto's Fat Cat on Saturday, but Friday night is really the preferred night. Pepperbellys in Fairfield has a show, but distance and a cool regard for that night's show disqualify it from the running. Regular shows by Laugh Track Live at Stockton's The Matinee "are on summer vacation." Nothing going on at "The Grand" (not that night, nor damned little besides) in Tracy, which is troublingly distant and traffic-choked anyway, especially anticipating a Friday night. Nothing at the Aqua. Damn!

I don't imagine I'll have a birthday party, I am a little sad to say. I have yet to figure out the alchemy of a) distance of attendees, b) cost, c) effort, d) certainty of a good time and e) my own random mood. The essence of this decision is that I'll be much happier bird-dogging my own good time. I'm odd, and sometimes can't just sit without worrying that others aren't enjoying themselves. Very odd.

I am pessimistically searching for other options, both for comedy (comedy clubs in the area but not mentioned above would be great) and for fun-loving in general. Creative ideas for spending the day are eagerly solicited.

Gift ideas

Comedy CD - Final Engagement, Marc Maron $14

Perfect birthday

I had the best birthday ever yesterday.

I got to spend a lot of time with my wife. We had a couple of local friends over, but nothing big or difficult to prepare for.

The weather was picture perfect: it promised to be hot, but in the afternoon a delightful band of clouds rolled between us and the sun, doing things not only to the temperature but to the view that was better than I could have hoped for. When the sun went down, the stars came out and we bullshitted in the front yard.

I've got toys yet left to play with.

The food, the drink, the company, the weather... just incredible. My thanks to all who came, who called and who wished me a good one. Your wishes paid off.

My brother's birthday may be cooler than mine

My birthday coincides with those of many other notable figures. The one of which I'm proudest is Moe Howard, of the Three Stooges.

My brother's astrological pedigree may be more enviable, however. His includes former French president Georges Pompidou, and P.T. Barnum. That's pretty cool.

...And Bill Watterson, author of Calvin & Hobbes! I wonder if he knows that? He'll be thrilled!

Eight more shopping days til my birthday

My birthday is on the horizon, getting close. Someone asked the other day what i'd like, were somebody looking to buy me a little somethin'. If it's useful, here's my reply:

• Gift certificate from Starbucks
• Gift certificate from Amazon.com or any bookstore in Stockton or closer to Valley Springs
• Field & Stream magazine
• Heineken, Harps or Hefeweizen beer
• The Glenlivet Scotch
• Any red wine you've enjoyed

Or, just an e-mail or a phone call. Just as acceptable.

Hooray for me

It's my birthday today! What to say, what to say... Well, several things.

I'm almost better off without holidays altogether. I don't deal with them well, and I may never learn to. For example, I spent the entire morning on Father's Day peeling the silver lining off of every cloud within reach and discarding it, and focusing on every negative I could find. Wonderful gifts from my wife? Bah- I just realized how badly she made out on Mother's Day when I didn't treat her half as well. Having loved ones over later? Bullshit - so much work to do!

Eck - Paula would be appalled. It got better when I was able to tell my wife about it - just speaking it out loud to her helped me get it out of my head.

The rest of the day went pretty well - my Dad, Denise and Michelle's Dad came over, and we put together a pile of food. I had a great time, I think they did, too.

I really struggle every year with the idea of a birthday party. Usually, this is because of low self-esteem and my own terrible habit of doubting whether I "deserve" the fuss of a birthday party. This year, we decided not to have one, mainly because we're broke. We're so broke that when we say we're broke, we give the word two syllables and a lusty inflection: "buh-roke!" Not only are parties expensive, but we live far enough away that it feels like such an imposition getting several-to-a-few-dozen people up here, we're almost better off not asking. See the low self-esteem portion a few sentences back.

Anyhow, no party this year, and that's okay with me. At least I think it is. Some years, I declare that no trouble should be undertaken, and the next day I regret it bitterly, and wonder how I could have foolishly let the opportunity slip by. I am a nut, and impossible to live with. My wife deserves canonization.

Birthdays are also a time for reflection.

Reflection one: I don't feel 36, but boy, do I look it. I don't mind gray hair at all - what little significance it holds in my mind is actually a positive, similar to a badge of courage. I've earned every silvery one of these damned things, they're my right as a world-weary basket case and don't you dare take them from me. I'm fatter than I want to be, though, and if I were to consider a birthday a milestone, I would like the next one to see me 20 pounds slimmer. I just don't feel like me with this life-preserver of flab around the middle. I've earned it, just as rightly as the gray hair, but emotionally, I reject it.

Reflection two: Is this all there is to my accomplishments? When I was little, say, elementary school age, I watched as all these grown-ups, 16 to 60 years old flitted from one objective to the next, determined in their paths. They looked so focused in their objectives, so certain. Now, I realize they were simply busy, and that one should not mistake action for certainty, commotion for creation. These people had simply stacked up enough to do that they didn't leave time to sit around and doubt (or think).

I know this now, but it's too late - by the time I was twelve, I had it firmly programmed in me that by the time I was twenty five (certainly thirty!) that I would have all this shit worked out, make a pile of money, and all there would be left to do was boss little people like myself around and make them go to school when they didn't want to. Now, I'm thirty-six, barely have a handle on anything. Some people never figure things out, become the least bit enlightened, or fit anything near the mold I thought I saw when I was eleven. Some of them can smell it on the wind that there is more out there, and hate their ignorance like I do, and some are as happy as pigs in shit never getting past the simplest existence. Which of the two groups has it right? The randomness of life on this planet is thrilling and terrifying.

Whew - that was some serious mental spelunking, I better take a break. Lucky for me, my wife allowed/encouraged me to open many of my birthday gifts early, so I've got just a pile of wonderful toys and books to play with, read and rub all over my body in a rush of material wealth.

If you need me, I'll be in the pile...