Before this life ends, which I expect to occur sometime between 2036 and 2058, I thought I would give everybody a nice big wet kiss with wishing them a Happy New Year and hope that 2011 will be only half as miserable as 2010.
Of course, prior to 2058 I might have to end this life, which has been buffeted by anguish, constant negativity, pain, anxiety, disappointment, heartbreak, and, most of all, unfulfilled potential.
Just kidding! About the suicide joke. I certainly could not kill myself, at least in an obvious fashion, for that would mean Wife and Toddler-Brat would not receive my life insurance money, they could end up destitute, and if there’s one thing a nice Jewish boy like myself I can’t live with, it’s guilt.
Also, I cannot live with sloth. I absolutely despise it in others. But I am often slothful myself (making me what is known as a “hypocrite”)–it is the worst of my seven deadly sins besides lust, but lust at least has the end benefit of getting laid, while sloth has the end benefit of regret.*
Meaning, I regret watching three hours of vital sports entertainment action (read: pro wrestling, Lingerie Football League) yesterday that could have been spent in more productive activity, such as having a sphincter-busting bowel movement or writing this beloved blog.
So it is my New Year’s Resolution, given five days after the fact, to eradicate sloth in my literary life: I shall sit before the computer more, blog more, write more fiction, write more non-fiction, engage in more epistolary efforts, and just more words, words, words. Naturally, since the total sum of my writing the past 12 months could fit on the inside of a gum wrapper, merely writing this blog entry will match 70 percent of my efforts in 2010, which ended sometime in September.
I don’t know if all this additional bloviation will actually translate into something actually worth reading, but you can’t make such a judgement unless there is something to read.
So I am going to blog at least twice a week the next month for whatever wisp of an audience that remains reading this space. Though I more negative than a neutron and more metaphor-challenged than a…than a…
Well, hell, I updated the layout. There’s that to consider.
My message to myself is simple: “Think positive, Bookfraud, think positive. Be superpowerful. Stop making fun of Wayne Newton.”
And if you just got that joke, you really should have stayed in Las Vegas.
*Or not maybe lust isn’t so great: read “Araby” and you’ll know what I mean. Also, it’s good reading for chuckleheads who say literature doesn’t tell us anything about the wider world or how to live.
do it.