The only writing I have planned for myself today – before I go off into the city to raise, what will most likely be (either) a can(s) of moosehead/keiths or bottle(s) of Mill Street Stock Ale, a drink into the air to toast 2010 and welcome 2011 – will be a letter to myself. While this may be narcissism (or not) at it’s finest, for the first time I am going to detail the year I just had and what I learned and what I had fun with and what sucked and what I wish to do again. Also I plan to leave out the lessons that I don’t want to learn because some mistakes just need to be made again.
Happy New Year. Happy Revelations. Happy Whatever. Happy Writing.