I hate cliches, Often, I suspect the motives behind those who constantly spout them. At the very least, I imagine intellectual laziness...
So, a New Year and resolutions. B.L.E.C.C.H. and best holiday wishes.
I remember a particular NYE with Karen Hanna in Westlake, OH at age 12-13 or so. As we were walking outside of our suburban neighboring homes on Columbia Avenue, I said when she started to spout resolution crap:, "Just wish for less uncertainty." and went inside my empty (of food) kitchen. and drank my mother's vodka in tribute.
So full of bullshit-so early.
But as I told my friend Larry recently, I have gained humility in my 40s. He looked surprised, so I assume it's not always evident. Not evident for someone who in their teens was dangerous but fun. And In my twenties, was serious- too serious . In my thirties, I allowed others to shape me-but it was about time. and then I came home to New Orleans when I was 36 (in 2000) and I relaxed- thank the heavens. and walked with the ghosts...thank god for the ghosts.
Part of my resolve is to tell how I I friggin love this city. I get it, I laugh at it, get absolute joy from it just riding down the GODdamm street on a sunny morning on my scooter talking to my ghosts.
Every point above a cliche. But in my humble 40s, so what? good enough.
I also absolutely get that I NEED to live NOW. If I don't enjoy THIS, what the fuck is the point? H . Katrina gave me that. And my sister in Cleveland OH. And those lovely farmers and fishers (at times). And my friends, who laugh at and share my weirdness. And companions like Hettie, the "mop" dog who is pure of heart and motivated to tell everyone she is alive when she walks out of the door....and Maddie the Cartoon Dog who just wants to roam far and wide with me....
DAMMIT, this place is ONLY now. I do not want your away analysis or American cynicism. We understand we have no plan, no rational history to draw on. Creativity, ingenuity and bravado is all we got. We're okay with that. We got that and boiled crabs. and the poetry in our souls.
To move forward, I remember Roger and Bill Wall and Dinerral and Chip and Louise and Helen, and those other ghosts that happen by.
And laugh and nod in recognition as they pass.