This is a New Year. The calendar says so. I note the fact by marking it so when I wish to designate the day and the year as distinguished from some other day and year. It may be that my contract says so. It is indicated clearly in the lease I signed or the agreement I attested. It is curious how much difference can be marked between the two dates — December 31 and January 1.
Yet there are many things that move unchanged, paying no attention to a device like the calendar or arrangements such as contracts or leases. There is the habit pattern of an individual life. Changes in that are not noted by the calendar, even though they may be noted on the calendar. Such changes are noted by events that make for radical shifts in values or the basic rearrangement of purposes. There are desires of the heart or moods of the spirit that may flow continuously for me whatever year the calendar indicates. The lonely heart, the joyful spirit, the churning anxiety may remain unrelieved, though the days come and go without end.
But, for many, this will be a New Year. It may mark the end of relationships of many years’ accumulation. It may mean the first encounter with stark tragedy or radical illness or the first quaffing of the cup of bitterness. It may mean the great discovery of the riches of another human heart and the revelation of the secret beauty of one’s own. It may mean the beginning of a new kind of living because of marriage, of graduation, of one’s first job. It may mean an encounter with God on the lonely road or the hearing of one’s name called by Him, high above the noise and din of the surrounding traffic. And when the call is answered, the life becomes invaded by smiling energies never before released, felt, or experienced. In whatever sense this year is a New Year for you, may the moment find you eager and unafraid, ready to take it by the hand with joy and with gratitude.
– Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart
Now the battle is to keep fascists out of power and freedom in sight. Even the Daily Planet suffers at the hands of the villains, who fear the truth of their exploits will be exposed and therefore go after Lois and the free press. The struggle is to keep Brainiac from overtaking the world via mindless technology while trickster Lex Luthor works in tandem, to fool everyone into believing they need protection from a false enemy, while he shields the sun and becomes the lone source of energy for sale…”
Kevin Smith may have accidentally created our current timeline.
Shawn at The Daily Drunk put out the call earlier today. A few of us answered. I give you Dude poems, a collection of impromptu Lebowski haiku.
The rug was a prominent image.
I’m cool with him reading Marianne Moore and Wendell Berry, but he’s definitely into my unfinished drafts. The nerve of this guy.
I said the other day that our family was not one to spend serious money on shoes.
I forgot the one exception.
In 1991, my dad was in his late 30s. He was very active in our regional men’s fast-pitch league (I have nothing but derisive things to say about so-called ‘slo-pitch’) and played a lot of racquetball and handball. He was good at all of them.
Somehow, he ended up with a pair of Rebook Pumps that Christmas. I think my Grammy bought them. All I remember is double-checking that the tag was not, in fact, made out to me.
I never got the Agassis, but Dad did give me the sweet-ass box those ATXes came in. I used it to store my NES games, and even that far removed from the actual shoe, I still felt cool as hell.