The topic: “I took my birthday off my Facebook profile so today I realize nobody actually knows about my birthday, or cares, but I also never bother to tell anyone else Happy Birthday on Facebook, so I am at the heart of the problem from which I look away the other 364 days of the year.”
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
Søren Kierkegaard
Walker Percy
Bob Dylan
Good Country People
Labora / Editions
Sutter's Casebook
Betty Duffy
Bitkin
By Way of Beauty
Charlotte was Both
I Have to Sit Down
The Onion
From Empty Hands
The Fine Delight
First Things
Dappled Things
All Manner of Thing
Gerasene Writers Conference
Scrutinies
Transcendental Musings
The Ironic Catholic
DarwinCatholic
Inside Catholic
Catholic and Enjoying It
Catholic Radio International
Bad Catholic
Universalis
Is My Phylactery Showing?
Quotidian Quintilian
The Lion & The Cardinal (Daniel Mitsui)
Babes in Babylon
Fort o' Tude
Ellen Finnigan
En pocas palabras
William Wilson, Guitarist Extraordinaire
Signposts in a Strange Land
Godspy
Godsbody
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Happy Birthday Narcissus
Face book?
Facebook.
Face, book!
JOB
I prefer “Narcissa.”
My apologies. I wasn’t sure to whom you were attributing the quotation – and since my grammar machine is the “Deo X Machina 2000 – Classic Model,” it’s gender default setting is “Masculine” – except when “Neuter” is clearly intended.
JOB
I just always wanted an obscure poetry form on my birthday, is all.
OK, now this slow witted dunce is getting it.
It’s YOUR birthday. Well, happy birthday – and if you’ll allow me some drive-time to ruminate, I’ll see what I can come up with.
Tomorrow is my oldest’s birthday. So there you go.
JOB
Happy Birthday, Narcissa!
(I will try to cobble something together before midnight CDT, but no guarantees.)
Happy Birthday!
I took my b-day off facebook too, and now I always feel sad that no one remembers it.
October 11–in case anyone’s wondering.
Happy birthday to me!
I turned thirty-three!
I am full of — what? nevermind.
Possible last line:
Now I’m off to Par-ee!
Happy birthday to Narcissa!
Dans la fleur de la jeunesse!
If she lived nearer, I’d kiss-ah.
That last line should read, “If she lived near chez moi, I’d kiss-ah.” Oh well.
The Facebook-love dearth
On the day of your birth
Doesn’t speak to your worth
Facebook’s archival
So hide your arrival
To sort friend from…rival?
The graveyard is nearer
And the path there is clearer
So be a doer, not hearer
You’re in need of a roast
For you snuck a self-toast
In an ur-birthday post
On Facebook, no less.
I mean, the shame I felt in realizing my own disappointment that nobody on Facebook had wished me a Happy Birthday…it was truly pitiful.
Podcasting is fun
But we’ve hardly begun
Set your snarking to “stun.”
Happy Birthday, Expat
From Joe, Brian, and Matt
Both Jons, Duff, and Cat
Angelico, too
Says Happy Birthday to you
From Korrektiv’s whole crew!
I’ll stop now.
This thread restores my hope in friend-anity. Thank you all.
The world declined
To read your mind.
(What are we, blind?)
That facebook birthday thing
Lets everyone know they should sing
Happy birthday to you, ding-a-ling.
Indeed. Still.
On facebook the date you were born
Is not private unless you scorn
Sharing but now you are torn.
Southern Expat
Is quite the cool cat.
She knows where it’s at.
My neighbor Ben is your birthday buddy
He’s on facebook, too, but he’s not a fuddy duddy
When he drinks too much his nose gets ruddy
If Cubeland were here
He’d add some good cheer
And sorrow and birthday fear.
Fear is in Cubeland’s scope.
Still, just like the late Pope,
He’s a witness to hope.
The feast of John Chrysostom (‘Golden Mouth’)
Falls on this day — the thirteenth of September –
On which was born the Expat from the South;
Let that Church Father help us to remember.
It should, please God, in future years prove easy
To send a birthday note of proper timbre,
In tones like Expat’s own: Bright, brisk, and breezy,
Though hard to ape — a goal, but never normative.
But now to end, before things turn too cheesy:
My gifts to her: mere words and wishes warm. To give
Code, craft, and thought (as she, to us)? Now, that’s
Transformative.
The last line should read:
Oh, well.
Birthdays are for Jack Bennys
Who enjoy pinching pennies.
(Free breakfast at Denny’s.)
Is that a Breaking Bad allusion?
Ms Speed! Are you going to write a birthday tercet for Southern Expat?
I look forward to watching Breaking Bad, but have yet to see an episode. Amy Welborn likes it, and Lickona’s scared by/of it, all of which speaks in the show’s favor. And one of my homies is selling a T-shirt that parodies it, for whatever that’s worth. Do you recommend it? I seem to remember Southern Expat directing people to your blog once to discuss an episode.
But no, not a Breaking Bad allusion. Autobiography.
Although I’m tardy visiting here
My wishes are no less sincere
Happy Returns of the (yester)day – and year!
alternate ending:
Although I’m tardy visiting here
My wishes are no less sincere:
Hope it was happy, my dear!
While my birthday wishes are belated
I hope they are not downgraded.
On Facebook your birth was not dated.
That slant rhyme is my gift to you,
Lovely!
OK, its not a tercet, but it is the official local “Catholic Worker” birthday song, offered to you:
(start striking a monotone, hold throughout)
It’s your birthday
People are starving
Children are dying
Happy Birthday
It’s possible you would have to be there.
Hahaha! This is pretty much the song I sang myself upon realizing how terribly much I cared about my own birthday.
It’s time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear….
I call foul. You’re too young to be quoting Dead Kennedys. Hell, I’m too young to be quoting Dead Kennedys.