Sound speaks through the song
That was a very nice birthday. It started with a very productive voice lesson and ended with watching O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) for the first time in twelve years, and in between there was photography by Berenice Abbott at the MIT Museum, kitfo at Asmara, surprise crème brûlée popovers made by my mother, and my brother getting me the DVD of a movie I'd been trying to see for two years. I have a copy of Wittgenstein at the Movies (2011) ed. Béla Szabados and Christina Stojanova, which is terrific.
derspatchel and I are caught up on Gravity Falls. I'm listening to the new Mission of Burma. And today it's freezing grey and raining, but that's all right. I don't need to be anywhere else right now.

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Fuck. How did I miss that. Anyway, a belated very happy birthday. Miss you.
I owe you a gift.
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(Anyway, Libra Solidarity!)
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Wish me luck, I'm planning on bringing my wife out to supper tonight without the little redheads in tow.
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what is kitfo? No wait, let me tell you what I imagine it is:
An adolescent fox-lad's rapper name. I can just see him now, freestyling.
Oh, I have a feeling the real thing is going to disappoint me.
Crème brûlée popovers sound fabulous.
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Thank you. It was low-key, but it was good. I didn't telegraph it much.
Miss you.
Yes.
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Thank you! It was.
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Heh. Thank you.
Rain on the window and crème brûlée: excellent combination.
It was the good kind of rain-morning: I woke to grey light through the curtains and listened to its rattle on the glass and then I hunched back under the blankets and went back to sleep. At various points, there was a cat. I like those.
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Is okay! I didn't exactly go around telling everyone in advance.
Anyway, (belated) birthday wishes, and I'm glad you had fun!
Thank you! I did.
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It was still appreciated!
(My defense is that I was hoping to be able to send a picture of my daughter . . . but no, she still doesn't want to come out.)
. . . Does this mean you have a wife in labor, or just a no longer accurate due date?
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Eh. You wrote. It counts. I'm not interesting in giving people guilt for my birthday!
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Thank you.
I like that icon.
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I'd like that. Thank you.
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Ninth. You can count the date down as a mnemonic; I was born in '81. Thank you!
(Anyway, Libra Solidarity!)
*autumnal fist-bump*
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Yesterday: the ninth. It doesn't say on my Facebook or Livejournal profile.
Happy anniversary!
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Thank you! It was a good day.
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Thank you.
An adolescent fox-lad's rapper name. I can just see him now, freestyling.
. . . okay, I like that.
Oh, I have a feeling the real thing is going to disappoint me.
It shouldn't: it's delicious.
Crème brûlée popovers sound fabulous.
Made with hazelnut flour and a Grand Marnier glaze. I brought one back for
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Thank you! I didn't know.
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Thank you!
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Well, I didn't really announce it. Thank you!
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It was a good one.
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Je suis si desolé que je suis en rétard! I'm so discombobulated with time and all that. Even more than usual. Travelling is strange.
I'm delighted that it was a very nice birthday for you. I'm happy for your new film, book, and record.
And today it's freezing grey and raining, but that's all right.
I hope it has continued to be all right.
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You share a birthday with my sister and my twin nieces. This means that yours is one of the very few birthdays I could conceivably remember. I kept mixing up Mom's birthday with her wedding anniversary all throughout my childhood, but I could always remember my sister's--one week after mine.
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Thank you!
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Thank you! I have enjoyed—or plan to enjoy—all.
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kitfo