Ludwig van Beethoven was born on this day in 1770, and every year I remember this in some way, if only by a passing thought. Tonight, I’m listening to the Choral Symphony.

To me, Beethoven was one of the greatest geniuses ever, up there with Shakespeare and Mozart. But the man’s life absolutely sucked. He began going deaf around the age of 30, and by 32 he knew it was serious, progressive and incurable. He fell in love several times, but never knew the happiness of an enduring relationship. He lived in a time when being an artist meant being a plaything of assholes, not a star like today. He struggled to create, efforts to adopt the son of his dead brother became a torment, he became completely deaf and died at age 57.

Yet Beethoven wrote works of great passion, drama and joy. The world would be so much smaller and darker without his music. Happy birthday, Ludwig!