OLD. SO VERY OLD.

Happy Birthday my olde friend
It seems this horror show will never end
Any moment's your last breath,
Here's to another day closer to death.

The cake is on the table
And it is awfully bright
'Cause there's so many candles on top.
But you are so decrepit,
Your chest so tight,
When you blow them out your lungs are gonna pop.


You cannot complain
Each time you feel a pain,
Though you have arthritis and gout.
'Cause when you start kvetching,
All your teeth fall out.

So have another cigarette,
Have another beer,
Raise your glass to one more year (GONE!)

Happy birthday my olde friend
It seems this horrorshow will never end
Any moment is your last breath
Here's to another day closer to death. - "Happy Birthday my Olde Friend", Voltaire


Yes, your snakey narrator was 30 years old on Sunday. Horrible thought, really. I haven't really celebrated yet, as such. My party plans for the forthcoming weekend have been somewhat curtailed by an impromptu visit by relatives, but I'm going to be organising something as soon as I can.

I spent much of the evening of my birthday itself in Erzulie Freda mode; reclining in a very deep bath with an Amandopondo bubble bar from Lush and a glass of sparkling wine. (As much as I'd like to use the word champagne, my inner wine buff refuses to allow me to do so).

As soon as I poured the wine and before drinking any myself, I took the glass through to my altar room and thanked my spirits, splashing a few drops on each of their altars. Even though the vast majority of my Loa don't normally drink bubbly, I felt they were all happy with the offering.

I got to thinking while I drowsily sipped the rest of the glass, watching steam rise into the candlelight, just how much of the events and lessons of my life may have been down to the Loa. I've always found it a fascinating question; how much of our nature do we owe to our own will and how much is granted to us by the Loa who walk with us? The answer I've come to is that we are not responsible for our natures, but we are responsible for our actions. This is something I'm sure to come back to in a future entry.

To all the Loa who walk with me and who do not walk with me; to all who have touched my life over the last year and who are yet to touch it, I thank you. Originally I planned to write a paragraph for each Loa , detailing the role they've played in my life; but I was just told in no uncertain terms to delete it - that couched in however guarded terms it was still too personal and it should remain between me and them. So for that reason, I'll just offer a list of names and my deepest and most loving thanks. They know exactly why I've named them, as do the deities from outside the Vodou pantheon who I've included here.

To Papa Legba, to Grand Soleil. To Met Agwe, to La Sirene. To Maitress Mambo Erzulie Freda Dahomey, to Mambo Dayila. To Silibo. To Anaisa Pye. To Ogoun Badagris, to Ogoun Feray, to Ogoun Shango, to Ogoun Sen Jak, to Ogoun Balindjo. To Gran Ibo. To Kalfu. To Erzulie Ge Rouge, to Erzulie Dantor. To Baron La Croix. To Baron Cimitiere. To Baron Samedi, to Maman Brigitte. To Baron Kriminel. To Brav Gede, to Gede Nibo, to Gede Fatras, to Gede ti-Mazacca. To my ancestors.

To Oya. To Shango. To Yemaya Okoto. To Oshun.

To Sulis.

To Nemesis.

To all who I've named and who I haven't named, I thank you for your presence in my life, for helping me reach the grand old age of 30 and for the blessings you have given me. Special mention also goes to the wonderful Vodouisants I've met over the past few years. As with the Loa, they know exactly who they are. Ache!

Nagini