Write Something...

So, write something. New Year’s resos. Write something every day, that’s the target. A writer writes. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the days have been gorgeous this year, every one of them, without exception, count them. One, two, three. (Okay, so the acrid smoke smell in the air kind of spoiled it this afternoon, but it was lovely up until then) We've been blessed, with good food, fine weather, and a life many people of the world would want. (Inner city, especially, you know, where I live, the country, nyr, not so much) I so promised, if only to myself, never to use meaningless platitudes, oh well. It being ‘meaningless’ means it is doubly awful. Still, the days have been lovely. (Fires, withstanding)

We've sat around all the holidays and have done very little. We were hampered by the little guy's op and his period of confinement. Still, we took to doing nothing with great ease. More sleep was the New Year’s reso, I have done that with gusto, I am a fucken champion of the sleep, lulled good night, day or night, by the warm air of summer, close your eyes and dream.

We've taken the big guy to the dog park, of course. It doesn't seem to matter to him that the little guy isn't joining us, and I thought the two of them were buds.

I've been reading the online news, as if that wasn't a recipe for wanting to off yourself. Well, not so much death by one's own hand, as death by boredom. Just about everything is click-bait, written for its maximum dramatic affect. Not so much reasoned, sensible debate, or comment. I ache for a good story.

Laughing. Oh, I laugh easily and often. Sam and I do. Everything is the basis for humour. A dark sense of humour is a gift, something special, you can find something funny about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. Laughter is the best medicine, you know, they say that.

Eat. Come on pig boy, or you fat slag, shove it in your mouth, you know you want to. Stuff it in, shove it down, your arse hasn't got the size of a football filed by accident, there is no mystery there. And everybody gives chocolate as Xmas presents.

Write, read, sleep, laugh, eat and a big fuck off to all the stupid people. That's 2020 in a nutshell.

Oh yes, and hope for the best. Let’s hope, because looking at what is happening with the climate around the world, all we have now is hope.