2017

A year has passed since David Bowie died, and so much else, you are not oblivious. Sometimes it takes you longer to get places than it does others. Sometimes you feel like life is one of those dreams where you run and run but get nowhere while the darkness chases you. When you look back you've gotten somewhere, after all, but fuck if it's enough. The bar across the street has 2-for-1 drinks on Tuesdays, you see the sign from your bedroom window and try to find one good reason not to fall down the fire escape and land in drunken oblivion.

A new year lies at your feet. They keep doing that, and piling up behind you like discarded wrappers. In the distance, earlier years gleam a little more than others, like something good was in there. The year that passed already burns in a tin can. I took a shower this morning so long it felt like I washed the entire year away. Nothing that rotted in that year will stay with us, will come into this new treat of a future, everything begins now.

January is grey but inside you is a spark, and a flame, and the knowledge that if you fight this war you could set fire to the stars.