I’m not sure what resolutions I can make for 2006. In the past year, I read more (and more deeply) than I ever have, experienced that revelation of love that culminated in popping the question to Amy, and did all sorts of charitable activity. I didn’t write as much as I want, so maybe that oughtta be it.
My big project (and those never work out for me, so it’s silly of me to mention it) is to read a lot about urban planning and city dynamics, to get a better idea about the historical development of American cities. If that leads to an essay of some kind, you’ll be the first to know.
Another resolution: I resolve to revamp my music-oriented Mad Mix blog and post more often. I have some ideas for a new graphic layout for it, and a way of making sure there’s a substantive post at least once a week, but it’s a matter of execution (as ever).
Here’s yet more Proust, quoting a doctor:
“Everything we think of as great has come to us from neurotics. It is they and they alone who found religions and create great works of art. The world will never realise how much it owes to them, and what they have suffered in order to bestow their gifts on it. We enjoy fine music, beautiful pictures, a thousand exquisite things, but we do not kow what they cost those who wrought them in insomnia, tears, spasmodic laughter, urticaria, asthma, epilepsy, a terror of death which is worse than any of these, and which you perhaps have experienced, Madame.”
That said, Woody Allen’s films have sucked for more than a decade now.