Because for me and my family – and I dare say the nation at large – 2017 was such a doleful twelve months, I thought about not constructing my traditional year-end recap of my blogging; however, going back through the posts has been, if not exactly therapeutic, instructive as dredging up the past has provided me a more detached idea of my state of mind during Judy’s decline. Essentially, the omnipresent Scythe Wielder is ignored, which makes sense, since Judy was a reader, sometimes (not often enough) a proofreader of this blog.
January was Trump obsession month, though my favorite post attacked not the Donald but king hell hypocrite Paul Ryan, suggesting that the arch Catholic should read Flavory O’Connor, but I did stray away from politics to reminisce about Judy’s and my courting days.
And celebrated Mardi Gras on Folly Beach by making a film. As it turned out, the celebration supposedly got out of hand.
In March, in an act of great generosity I provided stuck fiction writers the titles and scenarios for mass market paperbacks based on Dylan lyrics. More seriously, I offered teenagers, whom I know something about, some good advice, and to offset any pretense of wisdom, told the story of bribing my middle school sons by buying them the issue of Playboy magazine depicted below.
April is supposedly the cruelest month, and it came very close. By now I had abandoned politics and turned my thoughts to avoiding a living death with the idea of termination looming. Perhaps I was angry at the universe. Why else rant about hairstyles?
I deliver a speech.
As Emily wrote: “First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –”
And speaking of failsons. Here’s a shopping guide.
As far as writing goes, I was lazy in August. I was hanging with a grief counsellor, hanging at Chico Feo, discovering the Island Breeze, preparing for my 32nd year at PG, checking out total eclipses.
Back to school and into a new classroom.
Definitely, the highlight of the year. NOLA. If you haven’t checked this out, you need to.
If typing this in London, leaving tomorrow, need to pack, so I’m out of here. Thanks to all my repeat readers. This blog sort of keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. Happy New Year.