Happy New Year! Makes you wonder just what the New Year means. It’s only the difference of one minute at midnight, and suddenly everything’s different? I don’t think it’s as much as expectations of something new as much as goodbyes. I started the year alone. Family up in Utah, I had the flu, and was in a big house living on Ramen soup and coffee. I’d basically been alone since Ocatillo Wells, so that didn’t bother me. Then, as the year progressed, the family did come back, but I had to watch Joe go down. Then my ex had another heart attack, then two, then Joe died and the rest went back up to Utah.
I’d like to tell you I’m a depressed writer, contemplating suicide, but I’m not. If you are a depressed writer you are not writing. I live within my stories. The act of communication sustains me. I guess that if I counted all the hours I’ve been alone it might overwhelm me, but actually I never consider it. When I look at all that I’ve written, if I’d planned it then I would have never gotten anything done. I’m lazy. That’s why I’ve put off the three books now scheduled for release in 2016.
Much of my composition was political. Hey, I’m gonna be honest with you. When Doc Greene pulled me into Raging Elephants I didn’t even know what a RINO was. The first dozen articles or so I was absolutely winging it. I dubbed myself a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin because when I messed up I could always say, “Hey! I told you I was stupid from the get go!” As the year went by I actually began to have an opinion. Political opinions are easy. You just watch the politicians and report the facts. I don’t think I’ve met one that I totally agree with yet, but shucks, if you agree with me one hundred percent, then you’re crazy.
I did become a tad more politically correct this year, if you can believe that. With Crystal Lee Larimore’s guidance I cleaned up my language a bit. Never did get a grip on grammar, though. When I was a senior in high school my English teacher, Miss Hornbuckle, told me that I’d never be able to communicate in the English language. Suck it up, Miss Hornbuckle. When she made that statement I’d been churning out a book a year in high school, and passing them around to my classmates. I’ve always been able to grab an image and put it out for people to see.
I sit tonight, still alone, doing this article, the only thing on my mind is hoping no one drops by, and disturbs my solitude because they think I’m “lonely.” I have Cleo, my Dear’s Head Chihuahua. Cleo and I have bonded this year. Originally, I bought her for Joe. His Cleo committed suicide in the pool. He left me her, and his shoes. Told me she’d keep me happy, and be a good companion. Considering the Supreme Court decision on the rules of marriage, I’ve considering marrying Cleo, but I think she’s a Presbyterian.
As I said, the New Year isn’t so much about “hello” as “goodbye,” and I’ve said goodbye to a few friends this year. Joe, of course, and a friend named Eric who left us just last week. Went to the golf course, drove a beautiful shot, and Jesus handed him the putter. No better way to finish the round, I guess. And now the number changes, and the door closes. Happy New Year.
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