I didn’t make any resolutions in particular this year, but I love the way that January always feels new, goal-lovely, inspired. The business news every day is dire. The end of capitalism is very inconvenient indeed. Writers and everyone else—we’re all facing our “own private Detroit” as Susie Bright puts it.
I’m excited about projects the way I’m always excited in January.
And again in April for the real new year.
And in June for my birthday.
And in September because the leaves turn and school starts.
The particular months are arbitrary—or they aren’t.
The equinoxes and the solstices.
The timing is energetic—and it’s pure potentiality.
I am not voting for the current dire collective hallucinations.
Sure, whitey has emptied the tills for real this time and is carpet-bagging his way outta Washington. Good riddance.
I’m excited about projects big and small. And I’m looking forward to all the cheap art and creative sustenance you will send me in the mail.
Don’t you know?