I’m thirty-nine today. Birthdays have little bearing for me. Part of me wish that I wrote something profound about the year that has passed on these days, because that would be interesting from a historical point of view, but I rarely (never?) do. I prefer to look forward, rather than reminiscing on the past. Not that there aren’t lessons to learn, from both failures and successful things, the latter being a lot harder to remember than the former.

No matter. In a couple of hours there’ll be wine and vinyls, and then this day will be replaced by the next one. Much like yesterday became today, if you will.