Last night, we stood at the windows looking out over the river and kissed our way into a new year with a plastic glass full of free champagne. We couldn't quite see the fireworks unless you were out in the cold along the railings, but I was happy to stay cozily inside the bar, which had emptied most of its patrons temporarily into the street along the water. We did not get home til much later, then delivery ordered McDonald's breakfast before falling into bed around dawn. So far, we are slow-moving today and destined to go see a late-night screening of Fargo (which I've never seen) at the Logan, but I've spent this afternoon getting my January ducks, shivering and frozen as they may be, in a row. Adding things to calendars and plotting out early-year writing plans.
I do not know what kind of year 2024 will turn out to be in the end, but mostly plans involve maybe stretching a little more of my poetry efforts into some other creative genres in an intentional way (and not just fucking around for funsies.) More video poems. More writing in this space. If 2023 taught me anything, it was to enjoy the process and yield and worry less about being invisible (or feeling that way sometimes.) So I hope to continue that into the new year, along with a little more discipline to meet the demands of genres that require more from me than a few lines every day.
I would also like to do more painting and analog papery things, after spending a lot of time this year in digital spaces making collages and art. I've been hoarding some very sturdy dispensary packaging all year, which made wonderful boxes for tiny dioramas and assemblages, maybe some accordion books. There are a coupe of tandem art/image projects I've been shaking around in my brain for years I'd like to make more progress in.
