The Arrival

2010 begun with an old man. Unshowered and unshaven, he strode into my work laden with bags and wearing clothes of patches. Just inside the entrance way he put down both bags, stood upright, straightened his shirt out, looked me directly in the eye and said “Happy New Year.” Then he picked up both bags and strode from the store with the same speed in which he had arrived.

“You too......” I responded to his disappearing figure.

The year had of course officially begun before his arrival, but I’d like to abuse the splendour of posterity and say it begun right then and there. That the smelly and sudden arrival of the stranger marked the beginning of something, the final tock of 2009 had long been ticked and then at last he, the old man of time, came bearing 2010.

Presented with, or more to the point, suddenly aware of its existence I begun to ponder what on earth I was going to do with it. First I decided wholeheartedly I would neither make any of the stupid mistakes I made in 2009 again nor allow myself to spend another year waiting and whining. (Don’t-ask-me-what-for-its-not-like-i-know) That being settled, I considered the page before me.

Maybe a good year, like any good day in my world, begins with a to-do list. I admit I shy away from plans with a capital P, plans that are set in 5 year, 10 year blocks that demand to be validated, that sit in the corner of your mind’s eye and threaten you with their dissolution, with your failure. I do have a vague idea though, in fact many exceptionally vague notions of what on earth to do with my new acquaintance, Mr 2010.

2010 is half coloured in. In the beginning there will be books, and cycling back and forth, and more books and a torrent of words that with any luck will be inspired, well-crafted and not dead fucking boring. I hope to achieve something, though I am once again too scared to officially demand success of myself. Look at me, I won’t even tell you what it is I’m actually doing, I’ll lead you to believe it’s something marvellous, something fantastical, and not just a measly honours dissertation that I’m going to work my arse off on so I hopefully do well.

Shush! Don’t say that out loud...

Either way, the rest of the year remains and it is all a little blank, a bit like large parts of New Years Eve in fact. Except it’s not blank in a way that curdles in your stomach and claws its way up your throat early on a Friday morning, its blank in a way that is beautiful, and that is terrifying. Some things are certain, I will first have to find the end of the rainbow and a pot of gold, and then I’ll half fill a bag and wander far away for a time. In other words it will be necessary that I get fully employed and then piss the fuck off to god knows where to like.. you know... see shit...n' shit.

And while I’m at it, or before, or maybe just sometime in the future thereafter, you know, just while we are talking about plans and all that lies before us... I dare myself to build something that can’t be erased by the backspace button. To grow something other than vast collections of dust and post it notes. And to do those things that scare me most. Except of course to learn to live without coffee, that’s simply far too terrifying.

So, excuse me, my life awaits. May yours treat you kindly also.