August 17

I meant to blog before I turned eighteen so I could document my last day of being seventeen, which was by coincidence, the seventeenth. Seventeen on the seventeenth and eighteen on the eighteenth, as I pointed out to my disinterested coworkers at Farmland today. I love my birthday. Unfortunately that is something to be ashamed of since nobody likes to hear you talk about yourself all day even if it is your birthday. Tonight when we waited for the clock to strike midnight on the sidewalk of Shrewsbury Street it was the most perfect temperature and my mom texted me saying, "18 years ago tonight you started being born." How nostalgic. Now I'm ready for my birthday of the year oh nine. The song of the day is "Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl" by Broken Social Scene. I'm listening to it right now with Liz, and she is leaning her head back on the chair.

Bleachin' your teeth, smilin' flash, talking trash, under my window


Dave said...

Happy 18th Phoebe. :)

sjglick said...

It has been delightful being the father of this blogger for 18 years. Happy Birthday Phoebs!

JEN said...