I turned fifty-five yesterday. I’m writing this a week before so that’s not exactly true, but close enough. The newsletter comes out Monday mornings and I do my best to be done with the following week’s by Thursday at the latest. Otherwise it gets stressful and I’m not much interested in that.

Talking about my birthday isn’t ever much fun but I’ve been anticipating this one all year just because of the ring of saying the number. I bought the Minutemen’s double-album as a very early present to myself back in January. It’s been a favorite ever since I first heard it in the eighties.

On the night, I’ll be going to Gene & Georgetti with K. It’s where I’ve marked many of my birthdays. An old school Chicago restaurant with surly male waiters and giant pieces of meat. Other than that it will be a normal Sunday. Brunch at the Duck, then an afternoon at Tangible.

After a certain age, loved ones ask you what you want for a birthday rather than surprising you. I’ve never liked surprises and can’t think of any thing that I truly want or need. I want to keep going as long as I have momentum left. That’s nothing that anyone else can supply. I want what I do to be appreciated but don’t necessarily need to hear about that or see it myself. I want to be of use occasionally. I want to keep from being an asshole when possible (it’s often not possible).

I don’t have too many plans. Maybe an art show in November. More public domain books to illustrate.

I thank you for your attention and look forward to bending your ear some more.

Had a good talk with Rebecca Lyon about Chicago Film Society and the good work they do and another with Mallory about Cuckoo.