Oh hi. I have been away from this blog for a very long time, due to several reasons, including blogging for the October Horror Challenge and also working on an essay for a project that’s under wraps for right now (although I can’t stop talking about it – bad anna bad!). But it’s almost the end of the year now, so I should maybe do one of those end-of-year wrap ups. Okay. Sure.
So I could rehash a bunch of stuff that I already covered on this blog, like the threats about being reported to Micky Dolenz’s “people” (scare quotes not mine), or that time my former co-worker said that white people all smell like bologna to him (which is totally true). Or I could talk about stuff that to your knowledge didn’t even happen, like the time I went to NYC and spent about five minutes wandering alone in Times Square before being totally unimpressed (it’s more fascinating at night), or the millions of movies I watched this year in comparison to last year (of which I should actually at least create a proper list in case anyone is interested).
However, I think what I will do is talk about how this year improved on last year, although is ending on a sad note, with the gun massacre at Sandy Hook. The gun debate will probably never be solved in my lifetime, or yours, but I hope we can all agree that violence does nothing more than beget more violence. But happier times were also had, especially visits with friends from all over the country. This year ended up being the Summer of Classic Rock, where my friend Claire and I ended up meeting Mark Dawson, of the Grass Roots, and Gary Puckett, of Gary Puckett and the Union Gap. We went to see at least three shows: the Happy Together tour, a Gary Puckett solo show, and The Monkees, which should have gotten me killed but somehow I am still alive. OR AM I? (I am)
In other news, I found out that I have some crap that’s wrong with my liver and gall bladder, and I probably have IBS and chronic fatigue syndrome. GOOD TIMES. Also, acid reflux! Wow, it’s like I hit the jackpot of annoying shit happening to me, making me feel Old™.
Uh-oh, I just realized that this is turning into a holiday letter. Bye!
I must go. My people need me.