Today I am thirty years old. I notice, among other things, that my facial asymmetry is increasing with age, as though my nose and mouth are structures settling on an uneven grade. Though this birthday is putatively significant, it feels like any other day; I am always preoccupied with the sorts of thoughts one has on one’s birthday, and since I don’t drink I cannot coerce a celebratory mood in myself. I am pleased to note, however, that I am the same age as the narrator of Ferdydurke..