Since the mid-nineties, Justin has been saying, ironically or not, that this is how your first entry of the new year should always be, and so it is.
- tales of new year’s festivities
I drank whiskey, watched Auburn/UVa, did laundry, read a terrible YA novel, listened to the Black Keys, and talked to Pam on IM. In my pajamas. It was awesome. I fell asleep watching Bones Season 4 on DVD at 12:45.
- accounting for some unfinished business
I’m sorry, and I love you.
- envisioning the year ahead
I’m declaring 2012 the year of shooting the festival; I just have to spend January convincing a professional media outlet to pay for it. I’m also going to steal every red light bulb in the Triangle.
- any sort of resolutions
This year I’m just going to live well. And try to keep my car from blowing up again.
- an extended and unfortunately eloquent harangue
nothing is sexier than regret
- a final thought composed in silence
I love all of you, and you know who you are.
I remain thankful, as always, for prime lenses, Yuengling Light, Glenn at the 506 and Frank at the Cradle, the local scene, food from trucks, owning a car with air conditioning, the third base line in Boshamer Stadium, fuckyeahgaslightanthem, idiot man children playing infield positions, vacation time, Two Cow Garage and Suburban Home Records, Townes Van Zandt’s songwriting, press passes, Android phones, Mike Ness, and free fake ficus trees on Craigslist.