I'm taking the Christmas stuff down, a task that always makes me feel melancholy. It's almost done; the ornaments and the nativity scene are packed away: everything is back in the big plastic box that says Halloween on the lid in sharpie. Any minute now I'm going to haul the tree itself out the door and to the curb, even though it's still really green. There's nothing sadder than Christmas trees on the curb and poinsettias in the trash. On other years I've been known to rescue them - one memorable year in the eighties, a couple of us dragged like five desolate trees home to the living room for no discernible reason other than sorrow. And, well, beer. There was that.
It's the New Year and I had a really kickass New Years Eve this year, which kind of fills me with dread. Last year's New Years was okay but not spectacular and the guy I went to kiss at midnight lunged away from me in horror, which made me think at the time that I would be celibate and alone and angstridden and overly concerned with my dogs for the rest of my no doubt miserable life or at least 2007. Which turned out, as we know, to be false, since 2007 was the roller coaster year to end all roller coaster years since at least 2000. Actually, it does seem that there is no corollary between New Years Eve experience and quality of life in the next year, as I have known since the year I took a nice headlong dive into an icy puddle of sleet on a Brooklyn street right around midnight, which I figured meant that the following year would be probably the best of my life. I can't even remember which year that was, which means that there is no corollary, and the fact that last week I was totally happily making out with M in Hampden right after midnight (right at midnight I was taking like a billion less than perfect photos; I can't help it; there were bright lights and shiny things) shouldn't worry me as to what's going to happen this year. And it doesn't. I think 2008 is going to be pretty goddamn kickass, actually. Things are good and I'm not even interested in rescuing Christmas trees or poinsettias.
In other news, Project 365 is over and has been over for like six days now and it's kind of weird. I got so used to taking a picture every day that now I feel guilty when I don't, even though I don't have to and even though, yeah, it was a totally self imposed thing in the first place. It's a big relief - I really had lost interest by the end - but at the same time it's leaving a void. Also, while I have every intention of self publishing those photos and possibly this year of blog entries into a book, the Blurb Make A Book software is getting on my nerves and it's not happening very quickly. But it will. And then I will try to sell it to you so I can buy more firewood since young M did in fact use a whole fucking cord last week. Which is understandable, since this house is apparently made of cardboard and not the expensive corrugated variety either.
Anyway, y'all, happy new year! It's time to go buy a 2008 calendar! I'm going to do that myself sometime really soon!