Rejuvenation, says the Whale

The most fitting of finales to this year, I think.  A free concert in Halifax, the setting for the levee revels tomorrow, of a band that scripted one of the favoured Antarctica songs.  On the original list to see, and here they are a few hours out, arrived in town just for ye.  Will be listening for Goodnight to the Moon, but if it doesn't come it will be played and treasured on the walk home.  And I will think of New Bedford, and the orcas, and the trips down Long Island, and what might be in store on the cow ledge in 2019.

Funny to be in the office, will I still have one come next year?  Even money, as they say, although the house always wins.  A quiet time to put the marking to bed, hopefully the last time for that, and write up a random invitation letter and send it by photo to the south of Africa.  What a world.  Will anything come of it.  The future is an inscrutable marvel.

Sounds like a storm tomorrow, perfect for the leveeing and the dip, and which should clear in time for your brief and ridiculous secret escapade.  The new ad captures it - and perhaps going solo will allow you to truly focus on the choices ahead, and the magic of randomness pursued at your own initiative and no other.  A shame, in many respects, but maybe it is the needed chance to look ahead.

So long 2018, you've been rich.  Time to obey tradition and all its wonders.  What next for the Globe, for the Arsenal, for the MFA, for the list of undiscovered countries?  Happenstance is out there.  Time to shape up for it.  Put aside the phone and other childish things, from this moment forward, as long as you are able.  Start the 7 min streak tomorrow, and let the dreams for this shiny new year begin.