100 Anos, Reposado

2020.

Can you believe it?

When even 2000 seemed a dream? Ahead by a century...

To think of the start of this decade, loan still outstanding, just back from 6 months on the road. No closer to answers and yet ready for it.  Or so, you/I thought.  Mostly right, in the end, actually.  People don't change. You didn't. Time just has its influences, its impact. Age. The meats in our youth, right Will?

Who could have predicted Antarctica would have led to Zambia? And here now, in Isla Mujeres, Sol Caribe (Yo!) where the computer clock shows 1/1/2020, but it is still 2019 for another half-hour. She is the girl, so weird to be sure, and happy about it.  Sure and happy not even the words.  Just...

All about is destiny.

It is written. Time travel time. The arrow of your bootstraps.

The only way to explain (?) 

Topped off by a nice email received from "First Person" a few hours ago, as you were editing biomass contracts from a Mexican balcony.

Ha. 

HA!

Just the Once More

Holic recalling the dancing on a table across from the Trivoli Gardens.  Funny the way of the world, the nameless encounters and the memories created.  May 4, 2012 posting.  The love of Guinness and the cup finals, the music and the Arsenal.  Fair thee well, silly old sod.

‘Tis the Season

Time.  The way it repeats, cyclically, the way we adapt to the solar and lunar cycles, so that the traditions seem appropriately and not arbitrarily placed.  The witnessing of the aging process, and the wondering at infant resiliency, and the impacts of the present on what is to be.  The little aspects of human nature, the unwillingness to say just what we mean or want, the focus on fleeting appearances because...  because if you don’t care about something, is there a fear it is to easy to fall into the trap of caring for nothing?  The communication breakdowns in not thinking of the other, the lack of sleep contributing, compounding situations.  The recurring trips back to the same stores, feeding the same consumerist cycle.  The calling out of the same name, due to helplessness, for the sake of being heard.  The sugar-rush reward-based approaches and mentality everywhere.  Ever the same.

The randomness of travel as a break and escape.  Choosing what you want, your own life.  And yet, that selfishness has its own perils.  And so triggers the pondering.  Until the point comes and there can be no putting it off any longer... and you do what you must, what seems ordained.  Drive safely to Halifax in 3 hours, old man.  The Old Triangle Tibs Eve reveal was good.  The failure of Chaz R to make his pop in, as unwelcome as it would have been.  The brushing off of Maurice.  Some things do change.  We get older mostly, but that’s not all.  We can learn.  And it is not always too late.  Sometimes you can hit the timing just right.

Merry Christmas.

“How Simple A Huge Change Can Be”

From Galgut, how good this find has turned out to be, these wondrous books appearing at the right time.  Full disclosure too, and the sprawling.  2020 as the year of further submissions and marketing efforts, all geared toward one strategic goal.

Or make that one solid effort, at this creative racket.  The preparatory groundwork in place, the chance can be taken.  But 2020 holds its other task, the larger change, that may come.  The 10th and final edition of the Southern Cross; the lucky 8 for 601, as you seek out the next step.  Every day it seems closer, more real, as if the finishing touches are properly lined up.

Simple?  Even so.

Fur Die Besten Burger: Frisch

I have been here before, though never awaiting opening.  Everything is available though, so the breakfast Whopper, Fanta, and Fries will be a delight, surely, about half-way through.  The headlights of cars pass outside the window on the highway, heading who knows where.  Another rejection in the submission of the writing, despite what seems good quality, so we continue to wait for a start.  Will be keeping a folder of such emails, hopefully at some point we hit upon a match.

What to make of the last two weeks?  Success, however you define it.  Phone calls made from the 17th floor and security lines and alleyways, further proof of what can be done.  Borders and families and sunrises and sunsets and presents acquired.  Decisions to be made over the holidays, about some weighty matters.  Much to consider, but the arrows continue pointing in the same direction...

The 666 sadly left behind, a sign?  Heh.  So strange to be a modern wanderer, discombobulatory, if that's a word.