Another year survived, given its rest with the rituals of intense intoxication, watching the drunks who have lost their ability to act naturally. I missed the moment itself, ushered inside to watch a ball drop, I refused at first, but was coerced. Didn’t want to start a new year staring at the idiot box, but was beguiled, so I watched the walls, the drunks, and was hip-deep in a conversation I can’t now recall when the moment came.
How much better it would have been to have been out in a field, drink in one hand, staring into the sky with no real sense of when the moment came, so that each and every one of the moments could have been the one, and they would all be transformed into that magic moment.
The instant itself has always been a favorite of mine, in the midst of a crowd chanting down time I feel the energy of everybody who believes that this could be the year, I can feel the potential of all these resolutions that may live a week if they’re lucky. The final seconds of any year tend to be one of those few moments where I feel at home in a crowd, not that it means anything on its own, but we can manage to make anything important if enough people gather together and say that it is.
If you’ve made any resolutions I hope they’re charmers. To hell with these quit smoking, lose weight, exercise more frequently bummers that only saddle you with the prospect of sacrifice. Resolve to draw on the sidewalk with chalk more frequently, or teach yourself to juggle. Resolve to call into work at least one day this year to do… whatever it is that you feel like doing. Resolve to write a poem and hide it in the bathroom of your favorite bar for someone to randomly find.
Myself, I’ve resolved to flirt unabashedly with every single woman who catches my eye. I’m resolving to write down every poetic impulse that strikes me, no matter how stupid. I’m resolving to jump at the chance for any adventure that comes my way.
Happy New Year
January 2nd, 2006 at 8:20 am
Here’s one for you: I bought a book yesterday at Barnes and Noble (I’m sure you could find it elsewhere if you prefer - don’t let that stop you from picking up a copy) called “No Plot? No Problem! A Low-Stress, High-Velocity Guide to Writing a Novel in 30 Days.” I’ve finished it already (well, the parts I was supposed to). Here’s an excerpt from the week-by-week overview section, just to give you an idea of how it’s written:
“*For maximum effect, read each of the following four chapters at the beginning of their corrosponding weeks. Also, no skipping ahead! Peeking at Week Two’s pep talk while you’re still exploring the exciting terrain of Week One will cause strange and disquieting rifts in the temporal fabric of the universe and may needlessly jeopardize the lives of everyone on this planet. Be a responsible (and fiendishly creative) global citizen and take the chapters one week at a time.”
It’s a riot to read and it actually gives a pretty feasible plan for writing a 50,000 page novel in a month.
January 2nd, 2006 at 5:25 pm
So we should make a list.
Mine are:
To create something every day. Writing, music, or whatever.
Take a long weekend for a vision quest.
Teach my kids somthing new whenever i get the opportunity.
Make sure my wife knows i love her every time i see her.
January 3rd, 2006 at 2:33 pm
everyday and everymoment are new beginings
the calander is just another concoction of scociety
January 7th, 2006 at 7:52 pm
… “staring into the sky with no real sense of when the moment came, so that each and every one of the moments could have been the one, and they would all be transformed into that magic moment.” — I like that. Each is the moment of new creation — The magic moment.
“Resolve to write a poem and hide it in the bathroom of your favorite bar for someone to randomly find.” — I really like that.
And I will join you, my friend — every poetic impulse that strikes me! Every single one…
Inspired again — Revrandy
January 7th, 2006 at 7:56 pm
… and also… a new favorite phrase from a poem by Anne Sexton:
“Joy not shared, I’m told, dies young.”