Before mercury, my blood used to fill thermometers.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

The art of tango is to relinquish control to your dance-partner and trust that he will bravely carry you across the floor.

(The title is from Amanda Palmer's blog post about her wedding - the second thing that made me cry in 2012, after Helen Mirren's monologue to the corpse in the Cook the Thief his Wife and her Lover.)

I am relieved in looking back that I've never had a better year than this past year. My best friend to whom I am the closest's birthday is the day after new year's and wishing her happy birthday - having known her since I was a sophomore in high school - I was really thrilled to see how miniscule and distant a lot of the extreme nonsense is.

Irinia Ionesco was among the things
I enjoyed most in 2011, although not
how her work is completely
inaccessible beyond tumblr.

Rather than taking stock in concrete and traceable achievements - which are so-manied it would take too long to collect them, since I have so much yet to do that are not yet things I have achieved, but things suspended and kind of mounting and making me feel, as the days pass, manically inadequate (which, since mania is supposed to be a grandeur-trip, I wholly resent this) - I'll salute what I'm looking forward to the most this year: my new apartment on the river, AWP with Maria, Enigma Machine, my birthday in New York, the romantic weekend my boyfriend's parents procured for us in Gettysburg, and the unforeseeable business that will blindside me with excitement when it happens. It always does.

I hope this year follows last year's trend of my getting at least a crack at better jobs. I am grateful for the one I have now because it is perfectly tolerable work for very much a living wage in an atmosphere of encouragement and support. My supervisor called me into a meeting last week to give me a pep talk about looking for jobs in my field. That is pretty excellent.

I also hope this year brings answers for the wayfaring Googlers who happen upon this site. I don't know if Frances Bean Cobain has a boyfriend, but I can confirm for you that Jean-Claude Brialy is gay. Godspeed.

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