Well, I’m far too brain-dead to write a coherent update today, but I sort of feel that I should… It’s the end of the year! Greatsociety in 2008 has been an entirely new beast. I’ve resurrected the horror that is The Boble, dug up useless shit that should have been deleted long ago, forced my good friend Cassander to write again after four years of crippling depression and sex addiction. and actually managed to maintain a sort of regular writing schedule of my own.
Last year at this time, I… Well, I was very drunk. But I had my list of resolutions, one of which was to make GS a more active home for my whining. Uh…writing, I mean. I try to set a low bar for my resolutions. For example, my resolutions for 2009 are: Eat more fruit, try not to die, drink more rum, and watch The Wire.
Breathing new life into GS was, actually, an ambitious resolution. I needed to clear out all of the mental cobwebs from 2007. I had Tyson Tate do up this bare bones front page, archived all the old shit, and went with the surprisingly smooth and easy WordPress software so I wouldn’t have to think and do computer stuff come time to post. Which is why 90% of everything you’ve read this year was written while under the influence of something.
I’d say we’ve done well this year. Of course, my snooping bosses from my two primary jobs are offended by GS and, in the end, I’m sure this site will make me unemployed and homeless. But I secretly think that will be a relief. As soon as it happens, I’m moving to some sad Third World country and ditching all of my debts. Let Chase Manhattan try and find me at that drug-runner village from Romancing the Stone.
“Joan Wilder? You are Joan Wilder?! I love your books!”
So – thank you for reading. Thank you for your support and have a happy new year.
And if you want more, you can read this post at my other blog (for a clue as to why I’m brain dead today). Though, truthfully, I’m brain dead because I’m doing that TNG marathon and it’s killing me. I really want to stop, but I’m halfway through season 5 so it’s sort of like getting within sight of the summit at this point. Just two and a half more seasons…
Except it won’t be rewarding in any way when I finally do reach this metaphorical summit. All it means is that I’ve wasted hundreds of hours of my life. But, hey, I can say the same about most of my past relationships. Those fucking bitches have nothing on Commander Riker, my new true love!
Um… Did I say that out loud?