quasify

I’m a big believer in incremental birthdays, often taking note of my various quarters, thirds and sixths. Today is my thirty-first and one-half. To celebrate, I bought some simple things to make myself happy: staba, guacamole at Border, a little flash memory for the new camera and eight track and some milk (luxury!) down at the corner. Yet I was unable (again…) to convince myself to buy what I really need, a ticket to Shreveport for my family reunion. The ticket I need is $529, by any measure obscene. Especially so for August, in Louisiana, on the face of the sun. I keep telling myself the price will go down but since I’ve been watching it it’s gone up by almost half. It’s like hanging onto a stock in free-fall, I can’t force myself to just do it for fear it’ll be some hundreds less tomorrow. In the end it may come down to the reality that hitchhiking is the only remaining viable option. Point being, happy half-birthday moron, buy the ticket tomorrow.