I'm not too happy with my 39th birthday. Forgotten by people I thought were friends but on the other hand I was remembered by people who I honestly believe consider me at the periphery of the venn diagram of their social circle. On the gripping hand Lee tells me that I don't hang around normal people and should not apply those standards to those individuals.
Whatever.
I'll just say that in the same measure that I haven't heard from Deidre on my birthday for many, many years I should apply the same philosophy in this situation. What smarts is when my preconceived notions actually come to fruition rather than being proved wrong, pleasantly surprised among other things.
My wife got books for my birthday and says there will be further deliveries through the week. She also gave me a two ruble coin which I believe she extricated from the dryer on the main floor because the Poles or Russians who also live in this complex were trying to buck the system. Since I had the volume turned down on my phone I didn't hear that my father called to wish me happy birthday. Also a loverly breakfast and dinner was prepared even though I didn't deserve them.
As it stands my birthday was ruined by Lee's spinster whale of a friend from college making a cunty remark about our finances. During their conversation I went to the bathroom, legit actually since I had to take a serious shit, closed the door behind me and ran the water so I didn't have to hear it while hiding myself in a Lovecraftian pastiche regarding mycological studies on the Plateau of Leng.
Everything just fell apart after I came out. I ended up becoming a dick for the first time that day bringing up balances. Lee rejoindered that I'm no angel and said pretty much everything I had going through my head. Dinner was good but I was tense.
While Lee was getting ready for work she asked me if I really understood where she was coming from when she discusses various issues. I could only answer "I guess" or "I don't know". To my relief she kissed me as she left the apartment.
Now I'm in my underwear, shower-fresh, listening to Tequila, two minutes before ten in the evening on my birthday wondering where I went wrong and why there is no solution.
Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. I usually do.
There was a fish in my arms. He was an ugly fish with flabby wrinkles on his rugose skin. Not once did the fish open his eyes which were bulbous and deep-set in a wholly mammalian fashion. For some unknown reason I put my hand into the beast's mouth and felt something sharp and flat play against the tip which wasn't a tooth. A little further investigation revealed something warm and slimy attached to that obstruction.
Eventually I pulled the fish's tongue out revealing it to be a perfect facsimile of a woman's hand. It wasn't a dainty but it did have lavender fingernails. Further up the wrist the skin and bone became flaccid leaving me with the impression that in life this protuberance was quite powerful. I went to show off my discovery to someone but instead of showing a fish I had a complete woman in my arms who was growing heavier with each passing moment. As she gained weight my breath came shorter and more labored so I squeezed her hand in the vain hope of resuscitating her from her langour.
I awoke with a start from a dream because I was having a hard time breathing on Sunday morning.
