What Birthday?

I woke up on the morning of the day of my birth still drunk from the night before. I had what at the time seemed like a logical idea... keep drinking. Who wants to be hung over on their birthday anyway? I remember meeting a lot of new interesting people. I remember phone calls that weren't neccessary. I remember a lovely young girl telling me that she liked my shirt. I decided to wear my t-shirt that looks like the front of a tuxedo with my black suit and black Converse All Stars. I remember a guy telling me that he lost his job. I remember asking him where he saw it last. I remember a nice woman named Robyn bring me a shot of Tequila. I remember going to a lot of different bars. I remember a lot of people giving me rides to the next bar. I remember standing up straight with confidence because it was my birthday and it was my right to be drunk. I remember hearing that my former co-worker/friend passed away that day. I remember feeling, for a moment, far too mortal for a drunk man. It wasn't that long ago that we were celebrating his birthday. Fucking cancer. The bad thing about being thirty five is that a two day day drunk has a two day hang over.