So here we are. The end of another year. I personally never bother with resolutions. If I wanted to believe in a fad, I’d start taking photos of my every meal and posting them on anti-social media for feedback in the way of cool emojis or unwarranted aggression. Man, do I HATE social media. Maybe I should have titled this post as Die Social Media! Die!
No…on second thoughts, that’s a shit title, clearly lacking the genius of the one I stuck with.
Hmmm, perhaps I should make a resolution to expunge all this tarry black bitterness which keeps me sharp.Nah, fuck that. I like my bitterness where it is. Right next to my heart, and swimming about my brain like furious little tumours. I need bitterness in the same way lemons do, it’s in our genes. Lemons can burn and please equally, even prevent scurvy, just ask Dr. James Lind. Oh wait, he’s dead. Died in 1794! Point is, lemons are a valuable addition to the fruit society.
Wait, why the fuck am I writing about lemons?
Okay…2021 is about to be slain like all tyrannical monsters should be, shuffling off the calendar the way Flat-Earthers should all shuffle off a cliff.I don’t know if celebrating it makes a blind bit of difference in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure 2022 is already partly shit-faced at its own coming head wetting, filling its bladder in preparation to piss all over us for the next 12 months. The key thing is to find shelter when possible, avoid deep puddles, and enjoy life’s dryness where you can.
Why did I even write this? I honestly have no idea. I’m on break in work, and remembered that apparently I have to maintain some form of blog output in order to tempt readers into perusing my books. N.B. (ever wonder what that stands for? It’s Nota Bene, Latin for “note well” I believe. Or who knows, maybe I’m talking out of my arse) my books are not essentially about bitterness, piss puddles or lemons, but I think the reasoning is that if somebody reads this rambling nonsense and likes how I string a sentence together, then they might enjoy my loftier sentences about life, death, revenge, and – actually, you know what? I’m not going to fire off a slew of profound themes about my books. If you made it this far I’m sure it wouldn’t kill you to click the Books link at the top of the page.
So in a nutshell, I’m still alive for the moment. I outlived 2021, unless I choke on a peanut before midnight. That means I’ll have a new book out soon (The Ferryman’s Toll – Hourglass #2), I’ll continue the first draft of Hourglass #3, I’ll gleefully watch Cobra Kai season 4 while inebriated, and will continue to contribute blog posts of varying quality.
To anybody reading this, I’m sorry I wasted your time here, but a blog’s gotta eat. But I hope you have a productive new year, prepare for the worst, watch out for piss puddles, and remember to be a lemon.