Dear Stewart,

(My friend Terry confirmed that it was him in France looking at this blog, and so: probably not you. Unless the two of you were together, peering over each other's shoulders at a laptop or iPad in some awesome Paris cafe...? Yeah, I didn't think so.)

I have another friend, and his birthday is tomorrow. He was born the same year as you, and so, is just 4 days older than you. He seems a bit melancholy, on this, the eve of his birthday. I don't know if "melancholy" is the right word, as we've been communicating today by email, and he's not the greatest email-er in the world (no punctuation, short sentences), so don't take my word for it. He mentioned, though, that today was the "last day of his youth."

That made me a little sad.

I'm working on him a little, trying to make him laugh, which used to be a specialty of mine (and ours: this friend and I were good laughers, together, at each other, at other people, at everything). I was good at it. I'd like to make him laugh again. I'm going to try to get him on the phone later, but wish me luck; he can be a little hermit-y. Any advice on what I could say? How do you feel? You've had a whole totally different life experience than he has, but there must be something universal that could be said, no?

Well. I'm sure I'll think of it.

Love you,
Irene

P.S. I'm listening to PJ Harvey's album "Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea," which came out in 2000 when we were working together at Rizzoli Bookstore in Santa Monica. We listened to it endlessly; I'd put it on the stereo, loud of course, in the mornings when we were opening up. "You Said Something" is a great song and totally reminds me of that time. Just a little historical background, there.