Sunrise bright and way-clear this New Year’s Eve on California’s north coast — a way-rapid week since last Thursday, and a freaking-quick year now-swiftly coming to conclusion.
A cold morning, too.
Maybe just getting old, or something, but it appears to me time is traveling a whole-lot faster than it did only a short few years ago — just this past week, since Christmas Eve, seven days like rocket have flown. And we’re nowhere better and brighter.
Today’s the release of everybody’s ‘Top-10 List,’ from movies to mass shootings, but that’s so mundane. This past year was mostly horrific, horribly-barbaric — no, it’s not all about Donald Trump — so any list would have to be bigger than 10, and larger than a 100-times-10.
(Illustration: Pablo Picasso’s ‘Harlequin Head,’ found here).
All lists would also have to carry the weight of the New Year — if 2015 was hot, wait til 2016, just hours away. Compressing 10-pounds of shit in a five-pound bag creates the inevitable shit-burst, can’t be avoided, and people will get hurt. Squeeze history into a short-time span, and the same shitty result, just worse, and quicker.
Not-so-much ironic, a situation akin to the palate. Number one on the recent Writers Guild of America’s list of funniest-ever screenplays, “Annie Hall,” expressed the sentiment.
Via the Guardian:
“There’s an old joke,” begins Woody Allen, talking straight to camera.
“Two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of ’em says, ‘Boy, the food at this place is really terrible.’ The other one says, ‘Yeah, I know; and such small portions.’
“Well, that’s essentially how I feel about life — full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly.”
Into the timely breach…