THE FORGETTING OF BIRTHDAYS

I may be one of the worst people when it comes to remembering a friend's birthday, so today I'm attempting to make up for forgetting the birthday of one of my dearest friends, who is currently far away, covering part of the Himalayas in artificial snow for a film production.

The thing is, I have a vague sense of birthdays—like the month they usually fall in—but pinning them down to a specific date is something I always find less memorable. As an excuse, I can tell you that I've always been bad with numbers in any form or variation. Just ask my old math teachers, who would see the fear in my eyes and the stricken look on my face when faced with even the simplest numerical questions, and eventually chose someone else in the classroom to pick on.

Excuses aside, I just wanted to say a big happy birthday to a very important friend who came into my life around the same time I lost someone else who was also very important to me. In fact, I've often felt, looking back, as if the universe provided me with an angel of sorts, albeit a French one (jus sanguinis). If this all sounds a little maudlin or Hallmark-y, I really don’t care anymore; I believe the world needs more sincere schmaltz, like you’d find in an old Douglas Sirk melodrama, which I’ve been watching a lot of lately. Besides, there was a continuity of sensibility between the old friend I lost to death and the new friend I gained in life. Naturally, it was a casual discussion about a relatively obscure Franco Zeffirelli movie that first sparked our mutual affinities and set our friendship on course for an enduring bond ever since.

Anyway, for what it's worth, here’s the card I made for him.

And now, the hardest part of this belated birthday tribute: choosing an appropriate piece of music that reflects the friend I’m writing about. I guess you could say this is my version of Desert Island Discs, but tailored to match my friend’s characteristics.

Simultaneously down-to-earth and lofty all at once. A dry northern wit combined with a French intellect, and the work ethic of a Himalayan pack donkey (since he's out there, it seems fitting), mixed with the bohemian fashion style of a 1980s "New New Wave" film director. It’s hard to find a flaw here—except, I’ll tell you, he’s a pedantic bastard at times. Actually, all the time.

In summary, if I know anything about this guy, I’m leaning toward Ravel’s Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune to capture the poetic side of his Frenchiness. But this may be a little too obvious this time around, so I’m going to choose something a bit more art-house and cine-niche. After all, we met talking about obscure films, so it feels appropriate to wish him a late Happy Birthday while honouring that seamless thread that runs through the journey of our friendship—far more than the less important stuff, like life... and birthdays! ^^

Happy Birthday, Steph! x (10th Oct?)