I wanted to say fuck 2016, but I just couldn’t. It was a hard fucking year, both in my life and in the world at large. Hate crimes, environmental destruction, broke as shit, loved ones dying, cherished artists dying, ACAB, depression, mania, anxiety, relationship issues, the election from hell, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, crying all the fucking time, etc., etc., and part of me wanted to say fuck this entire year in its face, it cannot do this to me.
But then, a memory:
At midnight on New Year’s Day, 2005, in a crowd of friends and lovers and sweet strangers, I shouted fuck 2004. Everyone did. It had been a hard year, an exhausting year, and at that moment I was looking back on only the bad things. Election from hell, broke as shit, abortion, art school dropout, drinking too much, loneliness, crying all the fucking time (same as it ever was, same as it ever was)… I thought of all that and I joined everyone in saying fuck 2004. And then I spent pretty much the entirety of 2005 wishing...
The ordinary horseshit is all we really get, so we have to notice the small moments of beauty, poetry, and inspiration in amongst it. And that’s what I try to do. Even when my days are mainly errands and chores and paying bills, I focus on the small moments: I stand out in my backyard, drinking in the color of the sky and listening to the freights blowing by on the nearby tracks. I stop in the cafe and eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. I take a different way home from the store and I notice houses and shops I’ve never seen before; I turn on the radio and sometimes I hear a perfect song. I still crave the distant cities and the all-night drives, the kisses and the mysterious strangers, the dancing and the sweaty rock’n’roll, but I’ve found ways to be okay when I don’t have those things, found ways to appreciate the day-to-day so that I’m not just waiting around for a future moment that might never come. (x)