It was skylerbunny's birthday on Saturday. This isn't something which I forgot: it would be extremely difficult, maybe impossible, for me to forget it thanks to his having what is for my twisted mind a highly memorable birthdate. (Besides some pleasant numerical coincidences which make personal connections, it also happens to be Marrissa Picard's future birthday.) Nor would I ever want to: Skyler has been not just a friend for a dozen years, but one of those precious few special friends, sharing a depth and a detail and an intimacy that I suppose isn't unique -- probably everyone finds such a person sometime in their lives, sometimes several times over -- but I feel it for him.
But what I did forget was to properly act on it. There were all sorts of things which I meant to do, from sending him something surprising to writing a proper e-mail to thank him for all which he's shared with me to -- well, it doesn't really matter what I meant to do, because I was lost in my own self-absorbed daze. I can apologize, of course, or at least I can try to ineptly, but what I should have done was avoid making the mistake in the first place. I didn't, and that was my fault. I'm sorry that I let him down, and that I didn't give him the little surprises and moments of cheer which make a proper birthday.
Trivia: Burt Zimmerly began Zimmerly Air Lines with three Canadian Pacific 247-Ds on 28 July 1945. With two more planes he expanded and changed the name to Empire Air Lines in 1946. Source: The Boeing 247: The First Modern Airliner, F Robert van der Linden.
Currently Reading: They Walked Like Men, Clifford Simak. Aliens in the shape of bowling balls invade, planning to buy the Earth. This raises the slightly rhetorical question to me: are there any Clifford Simak novels which don't involve nigh-unstoppable aliens gently invading Earth? All right, there's Way Station, but after that?