Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Post-Yule Pre-Lang-Syne Titivations Of Wherewithal
It’s time to reflect. To assess. To weigh up. Like a woman with one tit bigger than the other trying to squeeze them both into a cleverly padded bra ironed by a fastidious Libran. Because you get them sometimes, those uneven body parts, especially if you’re a man of a certain age. And that’s what we’re all doing now. Juggling, juggling, juggling the mammaries of our hopes, fears and wishes into a workable factotum of resolution as we stand on the arbitrary threshold of another 52-week long onslaught of nonsense.*
* If you think that’s ridiculous, I nearly went with balls, but they don’t make bras for uneven scrotums and that would have ruled out the fastidious Libran gag.
This time last year, the future looked so, so different. Way more doom and gloom, as I recall. And no Susan Boyle to cheer us on our way with her sublimely disturbing warblings. Just Obama and Jacko. Sigh
Regular visitors to this blog will know that at the end of 2008, I fancied striding out into the darkness of the Noughties’ penultimate offering with the swoosh of a drainpipe trouser over a Twist Again leg (if you’re an irregular visitor, check for lumps — it could be the milk chocolate almond you thought you’d lost down the back of the sofa on Boxing Day). But it didn’t quite turn out that way. If anything, 2009 has been something of a backfoot year for me (that’s like a Bigfoot year, only without the Yetis) — a muted affair, a re-tread, a time of spectres.
But now I come galloping to the end (on a donkey! I demand a donkey!), I find myself weeks away from completing my novel (yes, I know it’s been weeks for months on end, but unless I contract some debilitating plague-2-Go, I reckon it’s the final furlong this time) — oh, and a freelance writing project to die for.
Striding into the darkness is all well and good but this year I’m minded to toss a few fireballs about the place to clear the obfuscating mist. That’s what’s needed, I think, to straighten out fate’s cruel brassiere. I’m no great believer in Yin and Yang — their range of instant noodles tastes like cack — but in a swings-and-roundabouts Universe, what goes around comes around, they say. And I certainly feel like I’m coming round at the moment...