Remembrance of birthdays past.

2003: A spectacular success, is what seems to be the consensus. In the words Frank the Tank: "I had an awesome time!" 27 will be a good year if last night is any indication, and I've been told that 27 is generally pretty dope. I made out with pretty much all of my friends, including the males and the lesbians. It was awesome. Let me reiterate: I had an awesome time.

2002: My brother and parents came into town and we had dinner at the Olive Garden. My brother and I went out, down to the Deadwood, and everyone eventually showed up, far more than I expected, or who even knew it was my birthday: Zeb and Courtney and Mark and Stefanie and Neil and Dan and Dino and Matt and Lorell and Nick and Chris and Jill and Jenn and Sarah Burk and Leisel, and people were buying me shots, naturally, and beer, naturally, and I got good and drunk and staggered over to the Cat with Leisel, but they were closing, so we got a ride to the afterhours which was downstairs from Nick�s place, and I drank more beer and then passed out upstairs in Nick�s bed, but not before throwing up in his bathroom. I am a class act. To be honest, it was a perfect birthday. I don't know if I've ever had so many people around for it. And I am not the least bit upset about twenty-six. Twenty-six. It has a nice ring to it. Sounds much better than twenty-five.

2001: And really, why should this date carry any more significance than any other? The idea of heaping all that weight on just one day�it's kind of depressing. Maybe this birthday is a milestone: from now on, they�re just going to be more depressing. And I know I have no right to feel old�I�m fiendishly, arrogantly young, by most�but I do. My parents make their attempts to celebrate�and who can blame them, it's the anniversary of the day they accomplished their second-greatest combined feat ever (the first-greatest behind my brother, natch). And the day I die will probably be a lot more important to me, ultimately. Don't you think? Ugh, morbid. So anyway, it was fine. Sara and Mark came up. I realized that if they hadn�t come, I would have been spending my birthday alone, so excelsior to them. We had a nice dinner out and saw a movie, played miniature golf, tried to get drunk. Speed Of Sauce was in the KRUI studio yesterday, talking and shit. That was fun. My birthday was a little depressing.

2000: Went to AJ's with everyone. Aden tried to eat the 80-ounce steak, and he got all but twelve ounces down. Jim said he'd cut him a deal on the steak if we all did a tequila shot for my birthday. Like we were going to argue with that. It was low-key but enjoyable.

1999: Wes and Mark and I had dinner at Mondo's and then went and saw American Pie. That was absolutely all that happened.

1998: It's my birthday, it's my birthday. Anyway, where was I ... I suppose Friday we went to the Cabbage Shed with a ton of people; some mediocre blues band was playing which nevertheless made me miss being in a band. Capricious conversation with everyone, a couple pints of Foster's. After we�d sobered up, we left again and took off for the hotel. Yesterday was a great day, a really great day. My birthday "observed," she called it. We went to Traverse City, walked by the bay and through downtown, marvelling at the tacky shops and trashy throngs of Cherry Festival enthusiasts. We saw a man standing on a corner holding a large banner that said "Jesus died for your sins" that helpfully listed just some of the sins condemned�supposedly�by The Man himself, among them homosexuality, "earth worship," and "ungodly music TV." We ate chicken linguini at a restuarant downtown with margaritas. Listened to silly songs in the car and read portions of books aloud. Sat in the cafe of Horizon Books reading magazines. Drove from Traverse to Cadillac and found a cinema showing Armageddon. Thrilled at the prospect of stupid epic science fiction melodrama.

1997: Went to East Lansing, and I forgot my fucking driver's license. I'm finally 21 and I forgot my driver's license. We got around it, though, for the most part, and I got my tattoo. After this, it's back to camp, moving from Crystalaire to Lookout, to work with autistic children and their families. And I have a tattoo. I just have to keep reminding myself that I have it. Gotta get my laundry first, though. And then we�re off. I�m twenty-one years of age.

1996: Happy birthday to me. I spent most of the day yesterday with Wesley, which was nice. Then he and Sarah and I went on a bike ride. My sleep was restless, the twentieth century dreaming.

1995: There was a full moon. A bunch of friends came over. That's about it.

1994: We spent most of yesterday on a bus, from Paris to Morgins. I'll be spending my birthday in the Swiss Alps with Alex and Gayle and Jeremy and Jason and the others, mostly friends I've just made in the past week.

1993: I have a lot of friends, let me tell you. Friends who care enough to abduct me, blindfold me, lead me to Tava�s apartment, and give me a surprise birthday party. What a great time that was. Aaron, Aaron, Alexis, Jenny, Shelly, Tava, Connie, James and Amanda were there, not to mention Mark, back from his trip to Kansas City.

1992: Hey hey hey gonna have a good time. Well, I'm sixteen now. A great birthday (my parents even called). Here, in La Porte, this is the sublime life. This feels like home.

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