So, it’s 2010, I suppose. I woke up on the first with a small hangover and the weight of the night before firmly planted on my chest. It’s 2010, I suppose, and of course, I wake alone. It’s a strange thing moving from decade to decade, from year to year, unattached. The world takes on a sinister, rather rude texture, as it the plans of friends and passersby were some grandiose thing, designed in back rooms, and unleashed upon the world simply to remind me, that I am, in fact, alone.
So what you may ask? It’s a good question. It is. It doesn’t bother me, having the occasional trist. It doesn’t generally bother me to lack a constant companion. It doesn’t bother me save for the new year, and certain gatherings, weddings, etc…
I think Gabriel Byrne said it best in Miller’s Crossing: “There’s nothing more ridiculous than a man chasing his hat.” I feel that way about sitting mercy seat to the couplings of my social groups. Nothing more ridiculous than to be the sad fat guy sitting there, hat less and absurd.

What follows is even more boring than the unreadable nonsense above. But sometimes I like to write simple to set my hands to moving.
So, this year, I wrote, in my estimation 15-30 poems; in my estimation 2 of them worth a shit. This year I wrote 90 pages of a novel, and maybe a short fiction pieces. For me, a good year writing wise.
This year I lost a bunch of weight, and managed to ride to work every normal work day. I spent another year meatless, and discovered that I really like Brie. This year I fell short of breaking 2007’s record for posts in a given year. But I suspect I did beat 2007 in original content. This year my head continued its streak of clearing up without the help of pills or other additives. This year I believe I gave more than I took… so, I suppose that’s a win. This is going nowhere, I know, but I feel it necessary to reflect back now and leave the rest for buried.