1. Twenty-eight days between the end of January and the beginning of March
2. Buying new clothes, even if they make the cardiologist smile
3. That inevitable phone call; the one I expected last year but didn’t get.
4. The first time I slip up and call some guy in his 40s “Sonny”
5. Forgetting to use my fake Australian accent
6. Page after page after page, still blank in the morning
7. Some days, mornings; some nights, bed
9. Nasal sprays
10. News broadcasts that include a body count or the phrase “projected losses”
11. “The Year In Review”
12. An overabundance of speculation in political reporting
13. A worldwide shortage of organic Brussels sprouts
14. All those fucking chickens, finally come home to roost
15. I used to think I was looking forward to the day we finally achieve world peace, but now I’m having second thoughts. It seems to me now that the only way we’re going to get there is to blast each other back into the stone age (like they used to say back in the 60s); until there’s nothing left worth fighting over and—even if there were—no one would have the energy to form yet another army, or even pick up a stray stick for a little hand-to-hand combat. I dunno, I guess I should feel lucky I don’t have to waste my time bending everybody’s ear about it anymore.