Namárië, 2015

I’m not much of a fan of New Year’s Eve celebrations, even though the 1953 version of “Auld Lang Syne” played by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians can still make me feel a little nostalgic. No one with my social skills should ever be jammed into Times Square with a million revelers. I prefer quieter entertainments, a brisk game of Parcheesi, perhaps.

Granted, proper punctuation is as useful in life as it is in writing. That was then; this is now–old year behind, new year ahead. It keeps time from getting all tangled up like yarn when the cat is through with it.

I do like the idea of the New Year. Absolutely anything could happen and probably will, somewhere–a clean slate to dream upon. This could be the year I become fluent in Elvish. This could be the year Kim Jong Un gives up on megalomania and takes up fancy dog-breeding.

And I like New Year’s predictions. You basically get a free pass because no one comes backs the following December to call you to account. Tragic hoverboard malfunctions will strike Congressional leaders at the State of the Union address. Scientists will decode the songs of whales only to discover that they are covers of old English sea chanties. But if I’m wrong, be kind. My crystal ball is the beta version. It could be off by a year.

I hope all your predictions come true in 2016, except the disaster ones, and I hope you stick to all the resolutions that would be good for you.

Namárië, 2015.

Tags: listeningpost