Birthdays

I'm looking at the clock. In about a minute or so it'll be November 10th, 2017. Right next to the clock is a television displaying an almost all black and white view of Ki Ramen. I'm in the basement with Kat signing papers to start work. It turns midnight. A little bit after that I say "Hey, it's my birthday." Kat says "Happy Birthday". I leave and probably get a ginger beer or something. I'm 31.

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I'm waking up early af from our last day in California. It's already my birthday. I'll be in airports or on a plane for a majority of the day. This is the daycap to a long, annoying, almost sickening school tour. I don't think I've ever been so down in my life. After living with the TSA like Tom Hanks in "The Terminal", I finally make it back to the Pittsburgh.

Ashley won't text me or make time for me. Angelica invites me out. I sit with her while she hits on this nobody for an hour. I get in my Altima and drive home to drink a ginger beer or something. I'm probably crying. I'm 32.

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The only rest day on the entire school tour is on Sunday, my birthday. "Rest" is debatable since we have to drive 4 hours from South Carolina to Macon, Georgia. I put on my headphones in the car, sit in the backseat and sip hot water. We finally get to the AirBNB, the same place we stayed earlier in the week. This time I got a room. I jerk off incessantly and smoke weed like it's my Bane oxygen tank. The following day will be the longest day of the tour. I'm 33.

Fuck birthdays.