25

I crossed my quarter of a century. I've never been a fan of birthdays, least of all my own. I'm too afraid no one would notice, which makes things all the more disappointing. But this one was special.

On Saturday my family took me to lobster noodles and aromatic duck at Royal China. After that I joined Fadz, Meng, Ed, SD, Sherine and Jun at Bar Stop for a truck-load of alcohol, they figuring correctly it would be the best present they could give. We traipsed down to Wala's, then rounded the morning off with prata by the street.

On Sunday Darius, Jerome, David and Cherylin bought me dinner at Garibaldi. It was expensive as hell but the company was worth it. We ended up at David's for wine and conversation far into the night.

I got calls and smses from people I never expected to have remembered or cared, and from those dearest who were not at hand. Don the Wanker. Alan, a long-lost friend. Jason, a long-lost "cousin". Panda remembered. Wen called from Venice. Chris smsed from UK.

I always wonder what it is I have to show for myself. I'm slippery, fractured and scathing. I forget or ignore the things which count. I go out of my way to stir the shit. This can't mean anything - it's only numbers and a date. But the answer is right in front of me, plain as day.