Today is my birthday. I am, though it seems hard to imagine, thirty-five. People do nice things on my birthday, mostly for me, sometimes for themselves, and I'm cool, either way. But I don't hugely need or want anything, and if you'd like to do something nice, I have this book that you can buy, for yourself or for others, this book you can talk about, link round, and tell people about. It's a pretty cool little book, and it could do with a little more love, in the way that all independent press books can do with more love. Link. Do you know, I began this blog nearly ten years ago? In February next year, I would have been twenty-five, returning to University, writing more, and generally having gotten more of my shit together. Which, y'know, I would promptly lose, but I'd find it again, and again after I lost it some time later. The other day, a girl I taught in year five and six, when she was but eleven or twelve, told me she a week out of doing her HSC, her final exams of High School. When I was in High School, those years seemed to take forever--but fuck, man, that is so not the case now. Anyhow: what you going to do? She promptly informed me that I was old, and told me her plans for after school. I really should delete that facebook account.