The end of the year leaves me feeling as if I’m supposed to be reflective; I find myself hunting for revelations that never arrive.
It’s almost like a new form of weather, this atmosphere of everyone waiting for this wretched year to end.
I try to imagine my reaction if someone showed me some scenes from the year to come.
There will be no flash of light or burning bush.
But for three or four minutes, something otherworldly seemed possible.
Music felt more necessary than ever this year.
A pair of ears clutches a knife. A pig dressed as a nun encourages a man to sign a legal document. And so on.
Remember this, I thought, because it won’t always be this way.
My first concept of god came from It’s a Wonderful Life.
My memories tend to pile up around the holidays, fogging my thoughts with the textures of Christmas seasons from the past.
A billionaire was on television this morning, and he’s worried about our social fabric.
Heavy rain beats against the windows and it’s the longest night of the year, one of my favorite moments.
