this is the time of year for list-making. the best of. . .2007, and yet i can't think of a fucking thing. not that the year has been bad for me. hardly. tho nothing sticks out. without sounding like too much of a pessimist every time i open the paper or log on to the net there are stories that confirm that the world is pretty fucked up and getting more so each day.

but then, when haven't we lived in the best of times, the worst of times. perhaps it's old age, my old age, that would like for me to write a sort of summing up of these past 365 days. and yet, i don't feel so old as all that. recently i wrote a friend about what might be my incipient neuroses about a pending mid-life crisis. but how can one have such a crisis if that person always felt old.

whatever. more of the same and then some, please. 2008 to my ear sounds futuristic, like we should all be eating protein pills and driving flying cars. for some reason 2007 sounds like 1997. yet today is tomorrow's past. we are all living in the present.

i don't make new year resolutions cuz i'm not that deluded or hopeful. more poems please, more movies, more love and friendship, please. the world is fucked, yes, yet i love being in the world all the more for it being so.