Birthday Sex (minus sex [also birthdays])

So I'm thirty five and a half again.  For the second time.  Since I've been keeping track of iterations.  I'm on my twenty sixth iteration.  I will not admit a lot of things, but I will admit it's kind of nice to be thirty five, and it's also nice to spell out numbers.  There's something that gives them more weight and pizzazz when you spell them out.  Maybe it's the greater visual volume and maybe I'm just a sucker for language and textual conflagrations.   Mostly I think I like to feel my fingers fly across the keyboard and tap out music the only way I know how, but not the only way I can learn, but the only way I know how just yet.  It's fun.

I've come to some realizations in being thirty five for the twenty sixth time.  None of them make particular sense with regard to each other.  It's kind of difficult to get the points to match up beyond courses of life times, let alone multiple life times.  Really, it's going to take a significant amount of time, I assume, to parse backward and piece together iterational check ins, but I do not believe in doing so that I will be at all disappointed with what the effort turns up.

So here I am.  This is a place holder for future reference to me.  Yes, it is all about me this time, but not really.  It's about the overarching work, but mostly I want to fire off a buoy to mark the spot in the sea of experience.

Sub-mostly, the mostly that bangs across the finish line just after the most mostly, I want to document a child singing a song about birthday sex.  Because it was hilarious, and we were hot boxing the car, and the kid was loving it.  And jumped up, after unfastening himself, on the back seat and started to sing birthday sex just like that time in Chicago, minus the drugs and the easily disarmed anti kid windshield splatterification device.  I almost died laughing.  And that's why, ladies and gentlemen, we park before boxing.  We're not savages.  We're forward thinkers.  Or something like that.

Either way.  Birthday sex might be one of the greatest songs ever and I hope it makes it to a Kids Songs album at some point.  It's good to be 35.  The only male enhancement drug I need on my twenty sixth iteration is every extends extra extreme.  Look it up.  It is the greatest arcade game ever made.  Because when you're this old and this young all you need is a D pad, a lettered button, good music, and explosions and you'll be half masted all day.