The oncoming arbitrarily-measured period of time

I was planning to write this later on, after the ’09-’10 changeover, but the Monkey Shoulder that I’ve drunk is slowly making things go a bit fuzzy around the edges, so I’m writing it now before I lose the ability to type coherently.

Tom Jones and Paloma Faith are on Jools’s Hootenanny… Tom Jones looks like he’s been attacked with a vat of bronzer. Anyhoo…

So, wishes for the next year. I have plenty; plans too. Ideas and thoughts and harebrained schemes abound in my head, buzzing around me like little hummingbirds, beautiful and fragile and wonderful.

But it’s to you, dear reader that I wanted to say:

Dream. Sing. Dance. Create something that didn’t exist before. Live your life to the best of your ability; be the you that only you can be and be wonderful while you’re at it. Smile at people. Don’t give LSD to guide dogs. Make 2010 your best year yet. Make it, and you, fantastic. And if you should see me in the next year, smile, shake my hand, and tell me something about you I didn’t know before.

Have a good evening you lovely internet ghosties. Have an awesome 2010.