Thursday, April 29, 2004

Today is my birthday. I've lived 43 years on this blue, brown, green and white marble. I'm not feeling jolly, due to my worry over completing some paperwork and documentation for two of my jobs, the impending physical I have within a few days, and the recent death of one of my favorite writers, Hubert Selby, Jr. He died at his home in Los Angeles, at the age of 75, of chronic pulmonary disease. He's the author of Last Exit from Brooklyn.

Got to go get some other documents to my senior colleague, a teacher of A.B.E. at the technical college for which we both teach. My wife's invited me to lunch for my birthday.

And got to renew the tags on our old Nissan, which still manages, thanks to Mr. Hernandez, the master mechanic of Sand Hills, a largely Hispanic community just over the county line, seaward.


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