It is now 2015. And this is my virginal and brand spanking new bloggish entry into this 15th (well, actually 16th) year of the millennium. How’s it looking so far? Pretty mediocre on this dreary looking (weatherwise) Friday which oddly feels like a Monday.
So, this means the Christmas season has come and gone and I made it through without pissing Wendy off too much with my incessant whining and railing against the elements of ‘seasonality’ (I think I just invented that word) that I invariably find painful. There was a bit of a tradeoff this year which stemmed from my refusal to listen to my car radio since they began playing Yuletide ditties in – it seemed to me – September. That meant I did not hear that abominable Little Drummer Boy (the self-indulgent brat who finally evoked the wrath of the exhausted Virgin Mary who cried out: “Stop with the fucking drumming — yeah, Mary uses dirty words when she’s pushed beyond exasperation – am I going to Hell for revealing that? — “I finally got the kid to sleep for His sake!”), but the trade off was that I didn’t hear Jingle Bell Rock, either. Anyway, we made it through with a fair amount of equanimity in the household.
I used to like Lennon’s Merry Christmas (War Is Over)but now it’s been co-opted by the Children’s Christian Fund or somesuch with their too lengthy ads showing the faces of third world waifs on the verge of starvation and designed to make us feel ever so guilty, it has lost some of its charm. I wonder how John, who once opined the Beatles were more popular than JC might feel about that?
Anyway, a new year, as I said. The time of resolutions for those who indulge in such a fashion. I don’t do much in the way of resolutions because I just find them goshdarn hard to keep and that leads to guilt and anxiety and a sense of failure. Hell of a way to start a year. In the old days when I was still a boozer I used to vow to abstain from alcohol use for the month of January. I usually succeeded but longed for Feb. 1 by about Jan. 15. That little factoid should have told me something but it took a few years for the message to become clear.
My other resolution, and I think this one goes back to about 1977, is to stop worrying. Well, so far that hasn’t worked a sweet goddamn, but I am going to so resolve yet again. Where there’s life there’s hope. Of course now I am worrying that yet again I won’t do it. I am also worried about the state of the world, about my advancing years, about niggly little health concerns, about the fact my beloved car is getting very old, about the fact my beloved dog is getting old, and whether I got the full message of Inside Llewyn Davis, which we just watched last evening. Coen Bros. Films sneak up on a body.
I have also resolved to stop concerning myself about not being as current as I might be and not recognizing certain theatrical and film and TV people whose names are meaningless to me. And also not being vaguely current with contemporary popular music – or indeed virtually any music post 1990 – with the notable exceptions of Adele and the late Amy Winehouse.
I also simply cannot feel bad about not being versed in such bits of creativity as (and I have been chastised for not so being) Harry Potter stuff, or Hobbit/Lord of the Rings stuff. I actually tried to read The Hobbit way back when I was married to my first wife who was an elementary teacher. I was left with the conclusion that there were lots of books I want to read, this one doesn’t happen to be one of them.
And I resolve for 2015 to not feel less-than-adequate for thinking that Community is a sucky and silly comedy and I’m happy they killed it (sort of) and also for thinking a drama about a failed schoolteacher becoming a meth cooker is a hideous premise for an entertainment. If you love Breaking Bad and I love you, then I will continue to love you, however.
I’m not here to please you with my tastes, and you aren’t here to please me with yours.
But lets hug anyway. I believe in the curative qualities of good hugs and here is your first for 2015.