The cool thing about singing along with the Pogues, it's a lot easier to do when you're sick and your throat is full of snot. Which is to say, yesterday I caught Spooky's crud. Hopefully, if I pamper this husk I call a body, I'll be okay in a couple of days. It's sunny today, we have a wide carnivorous sky, carnivorous blue, but that's better than a rainy New Year's Day. I cannot in good conscious wish anyone a happy new year. I don't have the hope for that. I can only wish that you all live to see 2018 and that the calamities to come are minimal.
NIN's Year Zero (2007) will be my album for the Horror Clown years.
Perhaps my greatest accomplishment during 2016 was that I managed to make a LiveJournal entry for every single day, all 366 days of it. Go me. Whether I shall do that again this year, who knows. It was a lark.
Spooky and I spent New year's Eve playing GW2 and watching (again) Season Six of RuPaul's Drag Race
I have three books coming out this year, and I have a novel to write. But we'll talk about that when I feel better.
Peace, Resistance, and Compassion,
Aunt Beast
Postscript: Oh, and here's my last photo of that spiteful, shitty, murderous year, dusk on the final day of the calendar: