Compared to this day one year ago, today has proven mercifully uneventful. It began a little differently—my parents had stayed the night so we had breakfast together while watching an episode of Japanese Style Originator—but other than boxing up all my Christmas decor while returning to Chop Bard (one of my personal favorite podcasts of all time), 2021 began with little pomp and plentiful lack of circumstance. I did my usual daily exercise, laughed at the TikToks my dearest Annie sent me, made some Iron Chef-style adequate chow mein for lunch, and did some research for my new Art & Design Syllabus for the year.
Somewhere in there, it came to my attention that the U.S. government dumped $600 of COVID guilt money into my account in the dead of night. So what’s the first thing I do? Dig through online used books listings for an expensive and heavy two-volume doorstop of a text: Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare. As of this writing I am inexplicably vacillating. It’s a 1500+ page goldmine for a mere $29.52. Fuck it. I need it. I know I said I had another project (and a whole stack of books) for this year, but I still have a lot to discuss with old William. No reason why I can’t make a true Renaissance person of myself and round out my new line of study with even more British literature.
Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capacity and godlike reason to fust in us unus’d...
Indeed. Continual plodders are nothing if not continual.
Lest you think me an absolute libertine for indulging myself with a hefty sheaf of words, I also immediately paid off all my credit cards from Christmas purchases (which would have otherwise maybe taken one more month, but hey, the faster the better!).
Now, since old Madam Cait is going to hit just shy of two score years of age in a few days’ time, we were unable to imbibe champagne at midnight, so we think we shall crack open a split for ourself now.
Skol, 2021. Try not to suck.
