Resolute

I am loathe to make New Year’s resolutions, as I see no reason for waiting until January 1 before changing bad behavior.

In addition, I am more likely to attend a Star Trek convention dressed as a Klingon chick than to keep any resolutions I make.

Still, exhausted from my holiday sojourn to places far from home, I am unlikely to write an entry actually worth reading for several days, not that anything published here is worth reading, anyway.

But enough of the spirited self-depreciation. Bookfraud Mark II. Or, 2007.

•I will endeavor to give up smoking, drinking, whoring, and shooting up, and will not write “objective correlative” ever again.

•Every day, I will write something about my addiction to _________ as I hope to write a non-fiction masterpiece.

•Every day, I will write something about how I don’t want to write a non-fiction masterpiece.

•I will continue to try and get my novel published, with the hope that my son can hold his head high and say, “My dad isn’t a total failure!”

•In the spirit of impending fatherhood, so that my son will grow up in a kind, non-threatening, loving environment, I hereby promise to strike the following words and phrases from my vocabulary: Fuck. Goddamn. Damn. Shit. Motherfucker. Asshole. Dickhead. This should leave me with about eight words.


My main man Marcel

•Also, I will not pound my fist on my desk and scream “Goddamn motherfucking piece of shit!” every time my computer crashes. Every second time should be sufficient to teach the computer a lesson.

•Instead of spending hours in front of the television, my brain eaten away as surely as an eagle feasted on Prometheus’ booze filter, I will read, think, and drop allusions to Greek mythology in my prose.

•If, years from now, my son says, “I like musicals,” I will not freak out nor will I fall into a bigoted depression. Instead, I will tell him, “Did you know ‘Full Metal Jacket’ has some great music in it?”

•I may also tell my Broadway-addled son, “Play baseball or else.”

•I will empty the hateful caldron of my brain of bad thoughts towards other people, strangers in particular, who have the innate, magical ability to ruin my commute every morning through their fine language of body and mouth. For those of you who push and scream and make 90 minutes of my work day a living hell, I won’t belittle your intelligence, mock your appearance, or fantasize that when you are walking up your driveway, a B-52 will drop six tons of excrement on you.

•I resolve to faithfully visit other blogs, comment regularly, and provide the support that bloggers deserve in the icy catacombs of cyberspace.

•I also resolve to quit my job so that I can have time to visit other blogs, not to mention write about my addiction to _________, visit museums, go to plays, travel, build my own villa on Lake Como, and learn how to play the violin better than that damn Joshua Bell.

•Instead of bitching about global warming and how our President and his cronies are trying to deny it, I will do something, starting with buying pollution credits — the more you credits buy, the less carbon dioxide a utility will dump into the air.


Killer lit!

•I will read the 20th Century Classics “The Man Without Qualities,” “Ulysses,” and “A la recherche du temps perdu.”

•I will then read the 20th Century Classics “All-Girl Office,” “Killer Dyke,” and “Orgy of the Dolls.” Several times.

•And to ensure that 2007 will be a happy year for Wife as she approaches motherhood, I will take it upon myself to voluntarily cook, clean, and keep house.

•Stop laughing.