I have found birthdays can be funny things. Some people really don’t like birthdays. They don’t like any holiday, and especially not personal ones (which of course are the most selfish of the bunch). Whenever I meet said people I nod like I know what they’re talking about, look off into the distance, and say, So wait, why don’t you like birthdays?
I’m not one of those people.
But it is interesting to think about. What if you looked back, and focused on each and every birthday you’ve ever had. So, say you’re 50. That’s fifty days out of…umm, 50 times 365. 18250 days. Damn. That’s only an infantile percentage of your life. Would be a good film though.
Ok. Where was I going with this. One of those posts I know what to write about but I don’t know how to start…
Well shit, I know I had a deeper meaning, but I’ll just talk about that Saturday. My birthday. I’ve never been out of the States on my birthday. Unless I was really young and don’t remember going somewhere. I think my not being in my homeland must mean something for this one. Because it was a good one. One of the best birthdays I’ve had. Definitely the best tailored for my state of mind, the place, and occupation.
I started, like many other days, at Jaro’s. I brought my little man-bag-purse thing. Satchel I suppose. All the Hungarians call them purses. Even for men. Ok. Inside my man-bag-purse thing are my video camera, my still camera, my keys and my sunglasses.
I would be racking my brains later as to what exactly I had in there.
So I started at Jaro’s, like always. Before I came over, he calls and says, Hey Boldog umm…umm…Szilvi how do you say Happy Birthday?
Christ. What a guy.
So there we are. Tamas is there too, but he’s studying his stock exchange. He wants to get rich this way. I expect a percentage of his monies after having to listen to him talk about it for hours.
I feel really good though. The weather is perfect. Clear sunny skies, but windy. Such a great feeling. And of course I’m riding high. It doesn’t matter that I’m incredibly broke and still looking back on some decisions I’ve recently made. All that seems to melt away and I’m free of whatever has been worrying me.
Jaro and I set off in the direction of Lanczhid, or the Chain Bridge. The bridge closes down every weekend during the summer, and they have this festival for all ages. Basically it’s a way for Budapest to sell little trinkets, and incredibly overpriced kolbasz sausage, but its still damn fun and damn good to eat. Probably bringing in good money for the system too.
I, of course, have to shoot for one of the Budapest videos. At first I was pissed about this, like, why the hell do I have to do this today of all days? But then both Jaro and I had our cameras. And we were stopping every 3 minutes to shoot something. It took us 2 hours to get to the bridge. You can walk there in 30 minutes. No problem.
We were obviously caught up.
When we finally finished shooting the Duna and Statue of Liberty, we clambered up onto the bridge. I swear I never heard Hungarian spoken. It was German, French, English, Spanish…other languages I don’t know. Probably Polish. I’m glad I didn’t hear Czech. I’d have probably socked them.
There were stalls set up every few meters selling traditional Hungarian trinkets. But that’s not why I go to these things. I like to watch the people. It’s probably the best thing. Jaro and I sit and watch a Magyar acoustic band playing under one of the huge archways of the bridge. It’s cool. They are cool.
We get to the end of the bridge, exhausted of shooting and hungry. There’s a sausage stand at the end. Yes! You’re finally doing something right Hungary! It’s 1000 forint for a sausage. Damnit! You were so close Hungary. You just had to fuck it up.
Like always.
We ate (hunger > wallet) and wandered up the Duna, on the Buda side towards Gellert Hill. Jaro tells me how Gellert Hill got it’s name. It was named after a priest. Gellert. When the Pagans and Christians had a power struggle trying to determine which way Magyarorszag would lean, the Pagans took it upon themselves to show the Christians who was boss. They took Gellert the priest, shoved him into a barrel with spikes - on the inside - and threw it down a big fucking hill. Which would later bear his name.
And you know what? Christianity still won. That’s what martyrdom does for you.
I’m listening to this story thinking about Gellert’s last thoughts. Yeesh. ‘That sucks man!’ is all I can say.
And suddenly, Jaro gets it into his head: wine tasting! Umm, ok yeah. Don’t worry I’ll pay for it. Its your birthday.
Allright!
The one day I can do this.
We go into a Best Western, asking where the closest wine tasting cellar is. The old Hungarian with perfect English says, Go outside, walk two meters. Its on your left.
Sweet. The wine cellar is next door!
But what we walk in to is no wine cellar. Instead it’s a courtyard filled with a wedding. Some woman is reading the vows to the bride and groom. Have you ever seen Wedding Crashers? Jaro asks. I look down at our clothes – ragged t-shirts and shorts. Umm. I don’t think that’s going to happen Jaro. But really, good thinking!
We walk upstairs, thinking the cellar is upstairs (sometimes my genius exceeds me). Suddenly we’re standing on a balcony now overlooking the wedding. People are staring. No, every person in the wedding is staring at the two retards looking lost above their heads.
Excuse me!
We look down. Is that guy talking to us?
Excuse me! Come down from there!
Oh yeah, he is. Should we go down?
We’re looking at each other, at the man yelling at us, and at the wedding going on directly below us, which now has the entire crowd staring at us, including the bride and groom. Man, who knew we could screw up this bad?
We saunter downstairs. Where is the wine bar?
The guy ushers us out the way we came in.
Go around the other way. There’s another entrance, he says.
Oh.
We walk around and find an outdoor patio. Oh! Jaro exclaims. I’ve been here!!
Well fucking great. Should have told me that before we walked into the awkward wedding service.
We sit down. Waiter comes up. Looks like a nerd. But cool. He speaks English. Of course. What would you like? He asks.
Wine.
Yes.
Glasses of wine.
Yes.
Dry wine. Suggestions?
Would you like a suggestion?
Umm.
Dúzsi Tamas. Excellent choice!
Ok fine we’ll have two glasses.
Oh no, you can only order a bottle!
But we just said… and I trail off. The guy is looking at us, smiling. Is he fucking with us or is it the language barrier? I can’t tell.
I look at Jaro. I can see he’s weighing his options. 6000 forint for a bottle of wine.
Happy birthday, Hunter. This better be fucking good.
I look at the guy, walking away. You’re telling me, I say.
Two hours later: Oh man this wine is like so good dude! So worth it…
We stumble along. I think Jaro has paid for the bill. It’s my birthday! I’m yelling.
I know dude, as Jaro shakes his head.
Fast forward three hours. Wait how did I get here? I’m scratching my head. Before us is Heroes’ Square, packed with thousands of drunk Magyars and possibly some foreigners. Oh yeah! I’m thinking. Carlos Santana!
I saw he was playing a free show two months before, and I was like, alright if there is anything I want to do, I want to go to a free show, featuring Santana.
But it was a little hard to maneuver. There were thousands of people milling around. It was hard to walk anywhere. Where we finally ended up, somewhere on the street about 3 blocks away from the actual concert (they had big viewing screens up so that those losers in the back – us – could at least enjoy some of it), a guy with a bicycle carriage sat. One of those things you see in footage about the streets of China. And he’s just sitting there, in a giant crowd of people, and two older women are sitting inside the carriage, waiting for someone. Or something. I never stayed around to see how they got out of that mass of people. It was probably a good story though.
We only stayed for three songs. Or rather, we got there at the end so we could only see three songs. At one point we saw Santana on the giant screen. But the rest was blurred debauchery, set in some foreign land. Night fell, and we left with the rest of the crowd.
Before the trudging along got to us, Tamas and Miki (who I just remembered was there) started playing football (soccer) with a crushed water bottle. Jaro, Tamas and Miki are running around swatting at this bottle, bouncing off people, not seeming to notice. I have to pee like its my job, and I look up the lighted streets of Andrassy utca with the mass of people and cops lining the sidewalks. Hmm. Gotta get something to keep my mind off urination.
So I run after them. Leaving Szilvi behind. What the fuck?! I think I hear her yell after me.
We run and jump and kick and run into as many people as we can, falling over police cars and making fools of ourselves. Someone asks me what my problem is and I scream ‘its my birthday!’ and run off. I don’t look back to see if he understands. Probably wouldn’t if I wasn’t drunk and had to pee like a mad man. Only the running after the ball – plastic bottle – keeps me sane.
We reach Oktogon and I’m standing there looking up at the lights and dark night sky, hearing the masses of language and people pass behind me, around me, through me. I must be smiling. I can’t really remember, because after everything, after all that I had gone through and all that I knew I would have to go through soon, after all that came crashing down on me, I was still there, looking up at the lights and night sky. Still standing. Still alive.
I’m hungry, I say, looking around.
We dip into a park where I once told Szilvi she could never hurt my feet with my boots on. She looked at me that night and said, Are you sure? Of course I’m sure, I boast. Her heel comes crashing down on my toes and I’m bowled over like a hurricane just ripped my big toe off. What the hell is wrong with you?!?
We never played that game again.
Jaro, Szilvi and I sit on a bench and talk. She gives me a box of toffee filled chocolate, and chocolate covered banana. Did you really get this for my birthday or did you just get this to eat? I say, looking at the boxes with a dubious expression on my face. I don’t think she answers me, but tells me Happy Birthday instead. It was actually really good, the chocolate with toffee and banana.
We get up to leave. Someone has mentioned McDonald’s. It’s up the street at Oktagon. At this point I can eat anything. I look back at the bench as I leave, and at the homeless people laying and drinking on the opposite bench. I don’t know it then but I will be wishing I had photographic memory.
45 minutes later we’re standing on the 4-6 tram, going towards Jaro’s flat. We’ve just eaten at McDonald’s and wow. Such a drunk food. Whenever I eat it I think of Super Size Me, but obviously that hasn’t stopped me. Sometimes, it is good to splurge on really bad food for you. After all, Hungarian food is really bad for you, but at least its not fake food. Like McDonald’s.
I call it McFood.
So we’re standing on the tram and I’m watching the lights go by and people around me are talking. Something is bothering me. I check my phone. No, it’s not 12 yet. I can still pull off the birthday thing. What is it? I shake my head and continue to watch people around me. Jaro and Szilvi are close and talking about something. I can’t hear them, but my mind is racing. What is it?
Oh SHIT.
My mind is jumping back throughout the day. The shooting. The bridge. The sausage. The wedding. The wine. The concert. The park. What did I have with me the whole time? My bag. I look down.
Hmm. No bag.
FUCK.
Jaro is looking at me now. Szilvi too. They look concerned. I must be ash white. I’m still thinking back. My heart is somewhere near my ankles. I can’t fucking remember where I last had my bag! I haven’t said anything, and now Jaro is asking me whats wrong.
My bag.
His eyebrows arch. Uh oh.
I make a quick inventory of what exactly I had in there. Hmm, let’s see. Video camera. Still camera. Wallet. Keys.
Fuck. Me.
I look at my phone again. It’s still not the 29th. God damnit. So much for an amazing birthday.
The tram comes in to Blaha at this point. I’m getting off, I say. Tamas and Miki say something like, Ok have fun. Jaro and Szilvi get off with me. I think they understand my predicament.
Where was the last place I had it. In the park? I’m thinking back. Hard. I can’t remember. Jesus Christ. If I left it there, those drunk homeless Hungarians are sure to have it by now! I can’t even think about it. They’re probably having sex with my camera by now.
No. I didn’t leave it at the park. Remember? I looked back. I looked at the bench. I put the chocolate in my bag. And I had it with me. Yes!
And then my heart falls again.
McDonald’s. God damnit.
I’m standing at the night bus stop, with Jaro and Szilvi in tow. I’m saying something incomprehensible. Like, Fuck me fuck me fuck me I cant believe I did that that is my life oh my god oh my god I am so fucked and McDonald’s really what the hell was I thinking?!
Jaro is looking at me again. He tells me not to worry. He’s left his stuff places all the time. I’m just going through the natural frenzy that happens when you lose something.
I’m trying to ignore him. God damn logic.
‘And plus, you had this coming.’
I look at him. What? Why? And then I think back. Oh yeah. The shit storm. He had made this point earlier in the day: I had a shit storm coming. It was on the horizon. And I had a good reason for it, too. I had just broken up with Jamie, and while it was the best for the both of us, I still had it coming. That’s what karma is. It doesn’t let you go for good behavior. It will come. Because it always does.
God damnit. I can’t take the shit storm right now, I’m mumbling, now on the night bus back to Oktagon. The bus rolls up to the rippling square, and I jump out, running towards the entrance to McDonald’s. I’m ready for anything. Except for what was waiting for me.
My bag. It was still there.
I run in and snatch it up with a big smile on my face. People are staring. I look at my phone. What is the time? 11:59. No shit. I walk out with my bag on my shoulder. Jaro and Szilvi are laughing. I’m laughing.
My 23rd birthday. It was amazing. And it even had some drama thrown in. I take a deep breath. And think back. And frown. The clock ticks twelve. I can hear it somewhere. A church?
The shit storm.
It’s still coming.
I’m not one of those people.
But it is interesting to think about. What if you looked back, and focused on each and every birthday you’ve ever had. So, say you’re 50. That’s fifty days out of…umm, 50 times 365. 18250 days. Damn. That’s only an infantile percentage of your life. Would be a good film though.
Ok. Where was I going with this. One of those posts I know what to write about but I don’t know how to start…
Well shit, I know I had a deeper meaning, but I’ll just talk about that Saturday. My birthday. I’ve never been out of the States on my birthday. Unless I was really young and don’t remember going somewhere. I think my not being in my homeland must mean something for this one. Because it was a good one. One of the best birthdays I’ve had. Definitely the best tailored for my state of mind, the place, and occupation.
I started, like many other days, at Jaro’s. I brought my little man-bag-purse thing. Satchel I suppose. All the Hungarians call them purses. Even for men. Ok. Inside my man-bag-purse thing are my video camera, my still camera, my keys and my sunglasses.
I would be racking my brains later as to what exactly I had in there.
So I started at Jaro’s, like always. Before I came over, he calls and says, Hey Boldog umm…umm…Szilvi how do you say Happy Birthday?
Christ. What a guy.
So there we are. Tamas is there too, but he’s studying his stock exchange. He wants to get rich this way. I expect a percentage of his monies after having to listen to him talk about it for hours.
I feel really good though. The weather is perfect. Clear sunny skies, but windy. Such a great feeling. And of course I’m riding high. It doesn’t matter that I’m incredibly broke and still looking back on some decisions I’ve recently made. All that seems to melt away and I’m free of whatever has been worrying me.
Jaro and I set off in the direction of Lanczhid, or the Chain Bridge. The bridge closes down every weekend during the summer, and they have this festival for all ages. Basically it’s a way for Budapest to sell little trinkets, and incredibly overpriced kolbasz sausage, but its still damn fun and damn good to eat. Probably bringing in good money for the system too.
I, of course, have to shoot for one of the Budapest videos. At first I was pissed about this, like, why the hell do I have to do this today of all days? But then both Jaro and I had our cameras. And we were stopping every 3 minutes to shoot something. It took us 2 hours to get to the bridge. You can walk there in 30 minutes. No problem.
We were obviously caught up.
When we finally finished shooting the Duna and Statue of Liberty, we clambered up onto the bridge. I swear I never heard Hungarian spoken. It was German, French, English, Spanish…other languages I don’t know. Probably Polish. I’m glad I didn’t hear Czech. I’d have probably socked them.
There were stalls set up every few meters selling traditional Hungarian trinkets. But that’s not why I go to these things. I like to watch the people. It’s probably the best thing. Jaro and I sit and watch a Magyar acoustic band playing under one of the huge archways of the bridge. It’s cool. They are cool.
We get to the end of the bridge, exhausted of shooting and hungry. There’s a sausage stand at the end. Yes! You’re finally doing something right Hungary! It’s 1000 forint for a sausage. Damnit! You were so close Hungary. You just had to fuck it up.
Like always.
We ate (hunger > wallet) and wandered up the Duna, on the Buda side towards Gellert Hill. Jaro tells me how Gellert Hill got it’s name. It was named after a priest. Gellert. When the Pagans and Christians had a power struggle trying to determine which way Magyarorszag would lean, the Pagans took it upon themselves to show the Christians who was boss. They took Gellert the priest, shoved him into a barrel with spikes - on the inside - and threw it down a big fucking hill. Which would later bear his name.
And you know what? Christianity still won. That’s what martyrdom does for you.
I’m listening to this story thinking about Gellert’s last thoughts. Yeesh. ‘That sucks man!’ is all I can say.
And suddenly, Jaro gets it into his head: wine tasting! Umm, ok yeah. Don’t worry I’ll pay for it. Its your birthday.
Allright!
The one day I can do this.
We go into a Best Western, asking where the closest wine tasting cellar is. The old Hungarian with perfect English says, Go outside, walk two meters. Its on your left.
Sweet. The wine cellar is next door!
But what we walk in to is no wine cellar. Instead it’s a courtyard filled with a wedding. Some woman is reading the vows to the bride and groom. Have you ever seen Wedding Crashers? Jaro asks. I look down at our clothes – ragged t-shirts and shorts. Umm. I don’t think that’s going to happen Jaro. But really, good thinking!
We walk upstairs, thinking the cellar is upstairs (sometimes my genius exceeds me). Suddenly we’re standing on a balcony now overlooking the wedding. People are staring. No, every person in the wedding is staring at the two retards looking lost above their heads.
Excuse me!
We look down. Is that guy talking to us?
Excuse me! Come down from there!
Oh yeah, he is. Should we go down?
We’re looking at each other, at the man yelling at us, and at the wedding going on directly below us, which now has the entire crowd staring at us, including the bride and groom. Man, who knew we could screw up this bad?
We saunter downstairs. Where is the wine bar?
The guy ushers us out the way we came in.
Go around the other way. There’s another entrance, he says.
Oh.
We walk around and find an outdoor patio. Oh! Jaro exclaims. I’ve been here!!
Well fucking great. Should have told me that before we walked into the awkward wedding service.
We sit down. Waiter comes up. Looks like a nerd. But cool. He speaks English. Of course. What would you like? He asks.
Wine.
Yes.
Glasses of wine.
Yes.
Dry wine. Suggestions?
Would you like a suggestion?
Umm.
Dúzsi Tamas. Excellent choice!
Ok fine we’ll have two glasses.
Oh no, you can only order a bottle!
But we just said… and I trail off. The guy is looking at us, smiling. Is he fucking with us or is it the language barrier? I can’t tell.
I look at Jaro. I can see he’s weighing his options. 6000 forint for a bottle of wine.
Happy birthday, Hunter. This better be fucking good.
I look at the guy, walking away. You’re telling me, I say.
Two hours later: Oh man this wine is like so good dude! So worth it…
We stumble along. I think Jaro has paid for the bill. It’s my birthday! I’m yelling.
I know dude, as Jaro shakes his head.
Fast forward three hours. Wait how did I get here? I’m scratching my head. Before us is Heroes’ Square, packed with thousands of drunk Magyars and possibly some foreigners. Oh yeah! I’m thinking. Carlos Santana!
I saw he was playing a free show two months before, and I was like, alright if there is anything I want to do, I want to go to a free show, featuring Santana.
But it was a little hard to maneuver. There were thousands of people milling around. It was hard to walk anywhere. Where we finally ended up, somewhere on the street about 3 blocks away from the actual concert (they had big viewing screens up so that those losers in the back – us – could at least enjoy some of it), a guy with a bicycle carriage sat. One of those things you see in footage about the streets of China. And he’s just sitting there, in a giant crowd of people, and two older women are sitting inside the carriage, waiting for someone. Or something. I never stayed around to see how they got out of that mass of people. It was probably a good story though.
We only stayed for three songs. Or rather, we got there at the end so we could only see three songs. At one point we saw Santana on the giant screen. But the rest was blurred debauchery, set in some foreign land. Night fell, and we left with the rest of the crowd.
Before the trudging along got to us, Tamas and Miki (who I just remembered was there) started playing football (soccer) with a crushed water bottle. Jaro, Tamas and Miki are running around swatting at this bottle, bouncing off people, not seeming to notice. I have to pee like its my job, and I look up the lighted streets of Andrassy utca with the mass of people and cops lining the sidewalks. Hmm. Gotta get something to keep my mind off urination.
So I run after them. Leaving Szilvi behind. What the fuck?! I think I hear her yell after me.
We run and jump and kick and run into as many people as we can, falling over police cars and making fools of ourselves. Someone asks me what my problem is and I scream ‘its my birthday!’ and run off. I don’t look back to see if he understands. Probably wouldn’t if I wasn’t drunk and had to pee like a mad man. Only the running after the ball – plastic bottle – keeps me sane.
We reach Oktogon and I’m standing there looking up at the lights and dark night sky, hearing the masses of language and people pass behind me, around me, through me. I must be smiling. I can’t really remember, because after everything, after all that I had gone through and all that I knew I would have to go through soon, after all that came crashing down on me, I was still there, looking up at the lights and night sky. Still standing. Still alive.
I’m hungry, I say, looking around.
We dip into a park where I once told Szilvi she could never hurt my feet with my boots on. She looked at me that night and said, Are you sure? Of course I’m sure, I boast. Her heel comes crashing down on my toes and I’m bowled over like a hurricane just ripped my big toe off. What the hell is wrong with you?!?
We never played that game again.
Jaro, Szilvi and I sit on a bench and talk. She gives me a box of toffee filled chocolate, and chocolate covered banana. Did you really get this for my birthday or did you just get this to eat? I say, looking at the boxes with a dubious expression on my face. I don’t think she answers me, but tells me Happy Birthday instead. It was actually really good, the chocolate with toffee and banana.
We get up to leave. Someone has mentioned McDonald’s. It’s up the street at Oktagon. At this point I can eat anything. I look back at the bench as I leave, and at the homeless people laying and drinking on the opposite bench. I don’t know it then but I will be wishing I had photographic memory.
45 minutes later we’re standing on the 4-6 tram, going towards Jaro’s flat. We’ve just eaten at McDonald’s and wow. Such a drunk food. Whenever I eat it I think of Super Size Me, but obviously that hasn’t stopped me. Sometimes, it is good to splurge on really bad food for you. After all, Hungarian food is really bad for you, but at least its not fake food. Like McDonald’s.
I call it McFood.
So we’re standing on the tram and I’m watching the lights go by and people around me are talking. Something is bothering me. I check my phone. No, it’s not 12 yet. I can still pull off the birthday thing. What is it? I shake my head and continue to watch people around me. Jaro and Szilvi are close and talking about something. I can’t hear them, but my mind is racing. What is it?
Oh SHIT.
My mind is jumping back throughout the day. The shooting. The bridge. The sausage. The wedding. The wine. The concert. The park. What did I have with me the whole time? My bag. I look down.
Hmm. No bag.
FUCK.
Jaro is looking at me now. Szilvi too. They look concerned. I must be ash white. I’m still thinking back. My heart is somewhere near my ankles. I can’t fucking remember where I last had my bag! I haven’t said anything, and now Jaro is asking me whats wrong.
My bag.
His eyebrows arch. Uh oh.
I make a quick inventory of what exactly I had in there. Hmm, let’s see. Video camera. Still camera. Wallet. Keys.
Fuck. Me.
I look at my phone again. It’s still not the 29th. God damnit. So much for an amazing birthday.
The tram comes in to Blaha at this point. I’m getting off, I say. Tamas and Miki say something like, Ok have fun. Jaro and Szilvi get off with me. I think they understand my predicament.
Where was the last place I had it. In the park? I’m thinking back. Hard. I can’t remember. Jesus Christ. If I left it there, those drunk homeless Hungarians are sure to have it by now! I can’t even think about it. They’re probably having sex with my camera by now.
No. I didn’t leave it at the park. Remember? I looked back. I looked at the bench. I put the chocolate in my bag. And I had it with me. Yes!
And then my heart falls again.
McDonald’s. God damnit.
I’m standing at the night bus stop, with Jaro and Szilvi in tow. I’m saying something incomprehensible. Like, Fuck me fuck me fuck me I cant believe I did that that is my life oh my god oh my god I am so fucked and McDonald’s really what the hell was I thinking?!
Jaro is looking at me again. He tells me not to worry. He’s left his stuff places all the time. I’m just going through the natural frenzy that happens when you lose something.
I’m trying to ignore him. God damn logic.
‘And plus, you had this coming.’
I look at him. What? Why? And then I think back. Oh yeah. The shit storm. He had made this point earlier in the day: I had a shit storm coming. It was on the horizon. And I had a good reason for it, too. I had just broken up with Jamie, and while it was the best for the both of us, I still had it coming. That’s what karma is. It doesn’t let you go for good behavior. It will come. Because it always does.
God damnit. I can’t take the shit storm right now, I’m mumbling, now on the night bus back to Oktagon. The bus rolls up to the rippling square, and I jump out, running towards the entrance to McDonald’s. I’m ready for anything. Except for what was waiting for me.
My bag. It was still there.
I run in and snatch it up with a big smile on my face. People are staring. I look at my phone. What is the time? 11:59. No shit. I walk out with my bag on my shoulder. Jaro and Szilvi are laughing. I’m laughing.
My 23rd birthday. It was amazing. And it even had some drama thrown in. I take a deep breath. And think back. And frown. The clock ticks twelve. I can hear it somewhere. A church?
The shit storm.
It’s still coming.
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1 comment:
Silly bastard. Happy bday.
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