And Now We Are Forty-Eight
18/03/2025
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It’s the eighteenth of March here in Australia, which means I’ve just turned another year older. We’re still fixing things up after
It’s the morning of my 35th Birthday, which means two things. First, that it’s time to post the traditional morning-of-my-birthday-self-portrait-that-will-cause-my-parents-to-complain-about-the-things-I-put-up-on-the-internet.
Not quite the grim visage of death I used for my thirty-third birthday, but I do plan on staying like this for most of the damn day. It’s Sunday, after all, and Sundays were meant for staying in bed with an arm thrown over your face, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist.
Secondly, it means I should reread Haruki Murakami’s Birthday Stories anthology, ’cause that’s what I do on my birthday.
Yes, I know, least exciting blog post ever, but hey – it’s tradition. And a Sunday.
It’s the eighteenth of March here in Australia, which means I’ve just turned another year older. We’re still fixing things up after
I’m writing this from an apartment packed down for impending cyclone/hurricane due to hit Brisbane some time in the next 24 hours.
I recently offered GenrePunk Ninja subscribers a list of options for a series of deep dive entries, and got them to vote
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Hope it's been a day full of glorious reading. And cake. If cake is a thing that you wish, I hope there has been much of it.