killing denouement

and what have we done? I like, no love, that each progressive year is better than the rest. Last year brought about the biggest changes yet – leaving home and moving to new york, suddenly on my own. Fucking it up and feeling scared; scrambling through to proud relief. Discovering the city, exploring the real world, discovering myself. Self actualisation through pretentious nonsense but maybe even learning a bit each time. I don’t know, these oh-let’s-insert-a-breath-of-effusive-gushiness now things are somewhat fromagey. To be honest I don’t even enjoy typewriting of this fashion. Especially with these so soft so gentle apple keys; there’s no physical interaction or scratchy struggle like there is pushing a pen tp paper.

But I want to be a writer, so here we go. Yes I love to say that writing is about rejection but it’s also about well, writing. Maybe publishing in this more public sphere (even if just to an audience of one) will get me actually doing something. Starting a blog was on my list of things to do this year anyway. Let’s see how long it lasts hey. The rest of said list is mostly writing related slash aspirational acquisitions slash things to do in nyc. Other stuff I have down includes:

x pierce my nose
x ride a hot air balloon
x put out a zine again
x go to bastaquia (bedoin village on banks of creek converted to lovely gallery locale)
x super-improve my photoskills
x write (sealed) letters to my future self more often -it’s usually annual but once a month?
x paint my room at home (a shade somewhere between gunmetal and violet)
x fall in love (or at least fool myself into believing so)
x dj more
x learn more about heritageheritage

Mostly doable, maybe i’ll come back and cross this out when I actually do anything on it. Either way, it’s close to half-five and I’m hungry. Trying to realign my sleep pattern and waiting for the (my) first sunrise of the year. Yum.