And now for something a little less gripey.
Arbitrary, ceremonial resolutions aren’t something that I’m inclined towards. I think I may have even resolved one New Year’s Day to never have a New Year’s resolution – a promise I may be forced to break.
All my things seem coincidentally to be coming together at one particular point; January.
Next round of blood tests; the standard recovery period before I can properly get back into exercise; the re-opening of a few doors after the silly season and re-engaging with projects that I’d put on the back-burner in the lead-up to my surgery back in October.
This will force me to re-evaluate a number of things and make a number of life changes. Some things will change for good.
I’m apparently not allowed to ever attempt the really heavy weights at gym again for example. My hernia was large enough to get a first though, and the mesh is going to have its work cut out for it. A routine long walk may be on the cards.
The No Drama thing will be getting more of my attention, but will require more planning for anything specific. I’ll leave that to January, but will probably post a little something about the manifesto before then. A lot will be contingent on information given by groups that are presently closed for the festive season.
New Year’s Resolutions: You can’t escape them, it seems. Hopefully I’ll be more cheery-headed when they come due.
I know lists are a product of lazy writing, and I’m being a bit demanding, but if you could manage some of these things by the end of 2018, World, that’d be great. You may need to get started on some of them sooner rather than later, and it’s not an exhaustive list.
Impeach Donald Trump while politically knee-capping Pence. This requires no further explanation.
Bring back the old, odd, discontinued flavours of Quik, from back when Quik was called Quik.
Release a properly funded, animated biopic on the life of Slavoj Žižek, produced by Ralph Bakshi. This isn’t to say that I’d watch it, only if it were properly funded, it could become one of those mass-distributed, disposable things that sit in remaindered bins, which would suit Žižek’s brand of perversion quite well. Also, Bakshi wouldn’t be screwed by financiers for once.
Impeach Donald Trump. Please.
Another double dissolution for Malcy. Maybe after contriving Shorten’s stepping down for Albo (optional).
Turn surrealism upside down and let the misogynists fall out. Dali’s crypt will have to be cracked open for this.
Have more Adelaide locals buy their tickets to gigs in advance, instead of just turning up on the night; it’s stressful enough for promoters and organizers getting bands to travel all the way out here without the added layer of financial ambiguity.
Have the Black Sabbath legacy treat Tony Martin with a bit more respect – and re-release those IRS albums!
Stop treating millionaire activist celebrities with 7-figure corporate contracts as radical revolutionaries. Some of them may be nice people, but they’re too entrenched with the status quo to be radical.
Stop viewing feelings of “empowerment” born of bromides sold to you by corporations as liberating, and start viewing them as being like the compliments given by abusive partners in toxic relationships; manipulation purposed to make you psychologically dependent.
Stop pretending woke commercials are less shallow than that Pepsi ad. (Especially the yearly hypocrisy aimed at selling lamb, Australia).
Build the biggest, fattest base-load solar-thermal generator you feasibly can at Port Augusta. Investigate the feasibility of building a smaller one at Whyalla.
Get Australia talking about a treaty.
Get Paul McCartney to apologize for Wings.
Better protect the world’s libraries.
Give more arts grants to emerging artists who need it, and less to wealthy people who don’t.
Vaccinate your kids.
Realize that paleo is bullshit.
Be kinder to animals.