Clicking around on the interweb this afternoon, waiting for a flight sim flightplan to load, reading the newses, I happened to click on the little balls (they’re ALWAYS little :() on my Google homepage — a place I almost never visit. A birthday montage appeared. No surprise there, of course… the interwebs know all about my DoB. But here’s the thing: the biographical sketch seemed like something someone (who knows me all too well) wrote. Not me. I don’t remember writing it. If I did, it serves as the perfect wry epitaph:
Born 1955. Family dog, Freckles, relinquished to Animal Control for biting neighbor kid. Thought he was a bone.
Graduated Montgomery Blair HS, Silver Spring Maryland, class ‘o 1973, hippy virgin, expelled for filmmaking.
Graduated Boston Conservatory, 1977. Majored in musical composition, minored in LSD. Began writing journal. Lost virginity. Still unable to play instrument (piano or anything else).
Moved to Sioux City with dancer friends. Lived on CETA grant. Thank you Randall Barron!
Moved to Kansas City. “Huck Finn” as a ‘ballet’ entertained the folks in Jack Straw’s Courtyard. Only mildly amused Star critic Haskell. And me. Attempts to refine piece succumbed to lack of discipline. Earned living as musician, felt pretty good about it. (1980.)
Left KC (1985) to reconnect with family in DC. Earned a living as a musician, but bit by bit relied on credit to stay afloat. (So 1980s!)
Academic job in Illinois came as rescue. Thank you Christian Cherry!
Diagnosis of Diabetes crimps style permanently. (2004.) Married Del Williams after meeting on match dot com and living together a little while.
Still writing. Still playing music.
If I wrote this, I’m amazed by my own candor, pith, and self disparagement. I’d say ‘bravo,’ if I spoke Italian. Woody Allen, look out. But Woody couldn’t have written it. Perhaps I did. Wow. It’s the oddest sensation.
Anyway, it’s my frickin’ 59th birthday. I may as well spread the word. That’s Beck’s good word…