2001-04-29 | 9:20 p.m.

corduroy licorice marched to the beat of a different drummer. the drummer in question was an iconoclast who insisted on playing with chicken drumsticks, as opposed to the standard wooden ones.

***

as i write this, i'm hours away from turning 36. whoa, dude. it's a heady, heady feeling. what a long, crazy trip it's been, hepcats. (today i decided that i would like to be considered a hepcat. i need to begin grooming myself to that end.)

i don't feel old. i mean, i've noticed a few little signs of "ageing," but nothing too drastic. i can hang. i'm still "holding it together." both my grandmas aged gracefully. my dad's mom still gets hit on at church. i'm thinking i'll be a hot granny...improving with age analogous to vino, yo.

tv zero has promised to make a fuss at work about my birth anniversary. hoy boy! as much as i like attention, being the center of attention makes me turn a lovely shade of cabernet. i like to go the no-fuss, no-muss route. although it's good to feel the love, yaknow.

i've got a rant brewing on the back burner of my brain about societal/familial expectations of women regarding marriage and motherhood, but that'll have to keep. i've got candles to blow out!

cheers and cheek kisses!

luv, nictate

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