Update

I start the year with nothing to say.  It isn't a beginning as much as an end.  I'm standing looking off a precipice with very little bargaining power in terms of content.  I thought that writing was a suitcase or ace in the hole I always carried.  My obsessions dominate my style and make it difficult to write anything with an emotional storyline.  I'm not prepared to give up the hope that there is something to express rather than an empty mouth.  Words will eventually fill if I walk around aimlessly enough.  More like I'm desperately assembling the impressions I've had of vacations and events this past year.  Teenagers called me egocentric randomly on the street.  And it's true that I have little concrete to offer than a tornado of self obsessed insecurity.  The worker artisans who dig with smiles on their faces are liked and respected for good reason.  I'm not sure what interesting I'm bringing ton anyone or anything this year, walking empty handed without charms, easy blandishments, or intelligent discussion, walking around at night like I do, demanding that the rest of the world be interesting.  Ho hum.