A New Year

A new year. I love January and all her cold winds. Even more I love forgetting the old year and kind of resetting myself. It never hurts my feelings to try and forget the old year. I’ve heard that what you are doing on New Years is what you find yourself doing the whole year. This year I stayed home, didn’t have a drop and was asleep by ten thirty. I suppose it means I’ll both be content and behave myself or I’ll be dead, either way they both sound quite similar.
(Listening to Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma)
January allows me to let go of all my musical predispositions and bad habits formed throughout the old year, although when that old year was new, I could assume they were the best of intentions. I like to delete all my play lists, reset my play counts and go in a completely different direction than I had been on December 31. I don’t like to hold on to things for too long. You start to take things for granted that way.
I have no resolutions, no proclamations of intent to better myself for the good of every man. No, I only have hopes for myself. Hopes I can find the strength just to. Hopes that through the course of the year, I can still have hopes. And, of course, to win the damn lottery already.
Also I think we are especially lucky here in America this year to hopefully begin moving in a more positive global direction with the impending inauguration of President Elect Obama. It will be interesting to see how the legacy of the leadership of the past eight years affects the leadership of the next fifty. It’s an exciting and frightening time we are living in.
I would also hope that the number of fat people reality shows on TLC continue to proliferate prodigiously in the coming year. But that’s just me. As I type I am totally stuffing my face with Triscuits and a Swiss n cheddar cheese log from Swiss Colony left over from last week. I was thinking if I could gain a hundred pounds, be a little person, or have eight or eighteen kids I could get my own reality show and get all my shit paid for too. Like I said, I have only hopes for 2009.
The weather here is lousy, though. It’s cold and the wind is steady coming in off the river at about 40 mph. Yesterday it was 60; I wish global warming would make up its mind. But it was nice to sit inside and crank the Rose Bowl up in HD this afternoon. Too bad the game was a clunker. I’m totally looking forward to Florida next month. I won’t miss the cold one damn bit, and you can’t make me.
I’m in to having fewer migraines this year, and also losing fewer family members. I am hoping for more rain and more free music. I’m a pirate of the first degree. Aaarrr! My son will begin kindergarten this fall. Yikes. That doesn’t make me feel old, being thirty five doesn’t make me feel old, hell I’m thankful if I make it to thirty six. No, getting up in the morning and barely being able to move makes me feel damn old. I can think of far fewer instances where I find myself feeling younger, and that makes me sad.