Archive for new years

Facing the Long, Dark Ahead

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on January 2, 2018 by jezzywolfe

“First we forgot where we planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that we’d planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
And I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through February?”

– Dar Williams, February


On the first day of the new year, I stood in the living room of my empty house, unsure of what to do. So, I just stood.

The downstairs of my home is almost impossible to heat in the winter, and with the below freezing temperatures outside, I felt no warmer than if I stood in a walk-in. Even in my heavy robe, I was chilled completely through. My eyes, which sprang a serious leak a few hours earlier, still managed to sting. I thought about turning on lights. On plugging in the holiday decorations I’ve been reluctant to pack away. I considered filling the empty with sweet music from my turntable.

But I stood in the growing dark, in the chilled dusk. I suffocated in quiet.

We tend to embark on January 1st like we’ve stepped foot of foreign shores. But nothing has changed. That crashing reality catches up to some sooner than others. For myself, the eternal fatalist, I see no reason to feel differently today. The nightmares of 2017 are still with us. The dulcet lure of the holiday season is done, and tomorrow, everyone will proceed to their lives exactly as before.

For me, my lack of life will sit on my chest and remind me that I’m still the sinking ship. I’ve spent months trying to figure out where I need to focus my direction, but I floundered in the same place.

It’s my own fault.

I need too much. The reassurance of worth. The dependability of safety nets. Encouragement, compassion, comraderie, companionship… basically, I don’t want to feel alone. I don’t want to be invisible. It has been an unbearable smother.

The weather is so cold already, but the real stretch of winter is still ahead of me. January and February are brutal, and usually a struggle to endure. The cold isn’t just outside. I know how I would usually tackle the days ahead. But each year has proven to be a terminal disappointment. The highs are fewer, and farther between. The lows are so constant, they’ve become level ground.

I don’t know what this means for the year ahead. I sincerely want …more. I don’t want to be this cold, so often. I don’t want to need anything, from anyone. Because ultimately, even the best intentioned will drop you, sooner or later. People let you down. They let you go. The friends you have might only be the residue of moments you didn’t realize already ended.

And when you realize you’re really alone, you’ll find yourself facing February.

I hope I can find green beneath this gray…

I hope this spring finds you all brighter, and ready to grow. I hope you find everything it is you are looking for. You have my blessing. You have my love.

Go on.








A Sober Look at a Sobering Horizon. 

Posted in Freeze Tag, General, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on January 1, 2017 by jezzywolfe

I didn’t drunk blog for the new year. I could have. Maybe I should have. There was a bounty of beverages, after all. img_3735-1

But, after year upon year of suck, turmoil, and heartbreak, just maybe I need a different routine.

Am I saying it’s my fault we’ve had such a bad year? I don’t know. Depends on how superstitious you are. No, I’ve never eaten the correct foods, or made resolutions, or toasted at the stroke of midnight, or tickled a wallaby’s left armpit. So maybe the bad is on me.

Or maybe that’s just how the cards fell.

It was a hard political season. We are many who are apprehensive at the future of our society. Frustrated by what we perceive as a breakdown of ethics and morality…largely under the very false flag of returning to some kind of ‘God fearing’ nation. A nation that is greedy and tight-fisted and polluted with hate and ignorance. And people seem to think that’s godly? Um, no. Hell no. Fuck off with that noise. Please, oh please call me a liberal. Because if that’s what conservative means, I want to be NOTHING like you.

So, in light of this new chance at another orbit, I’ve decided to start it right. I ate a proper meal. I decided not to blog buzzed…heck, I’m a dork anyway, the alcohol doesn’t change that. And I am making resolutions. Not ‘actual’ resolutions, because we all know the flop that follows those. These are choices. Choices are not lofty goals we hope we can reach, but the shift of mindset that allows them to be realities.

My first choice is to be strong. We are all here together. I throw the word ‘love’ around loosely, but I am sincere. I love the people in my life. And I choose to be stronger for them, in the hope that my strength will give them encouragement. With that strength needs to be courage. We have a fight ahead of us, and we can no longer cower or bury our heads. You are all sisters and brothers to me, regardless of your race or ethnicity or religion, and it is my responsibility to stand by you when they try to tear us down. This is not a safety pin. This is my arms. This is my heart. And every one of you are safe with me.

My second choice is to be industrious. This year will likely bring about career changes, and I’m scared about what that means. But I have to move forward, for the sake of my family, my fuzzy babies, and my peace of mind. This applies to my aspirations as a writer, as well. I’ve accomplished some milestones recently. It’s time to follow them through.

My third choice is to be disciplined. I’ve fallen off track with my self care. It’s time to rectify that. I’m happier and clear headed when I’m physically active. I need to find that part of me again, and dig in. It will also allow me to remove clutter. There is so much clutter around me. So much useless material I don’t need. It overwhelmed and paralyzed me. And it’s time to make it history.

My fourth choice is to be present. Life comes and goes rather abruptly, as we have all witnessed this past year. You get one life, and one chance to carve it out. Daydreams are fun, but they’re fruitless. They keep me back from all that I could accomplish. It’s time to appreciate what’s in front of me now, as I have it. My family, my adoring ferrets, my irreplaceable friends. I don’t want to waste the moments we have here.

My fifth choice is to be optimistic. Because I’m not. I’m terrified of the unknown, and apprehensive to the point that I sabotage myself. No longer do I want to miss opportunities. No longer do I want to start my days worried about what can go wrong. When you live that way, the things that go right are barely a glimmer mired in your dustbin. I will not live in trepidation or nihilism any longer.

Who cares what is on the horizon? Lesser people interfered, and now we all face the dubious consequences.  But I am here. You are here. We are standing side by side on the same cliff. We face the same outstretch of sea. You know what’s beautiful about that?

Every. Single. Sunrise.

I am spending this year looking forward to every one that I get to spend with you.

Be kind. Be safe. Be brave. I got you.


WARNING: This Post is Full of Marmosets. Pretty Cool, Right?

Posted in General, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 1, 2016 by jezzywolfe

When it is all said and done, what everyone will remember is I FORGOT TO BUY THE RIGHT BEANS!

How do you do that? Seriously? I stood in that store, thinking ‘How lucky is FullSizeRender(1)it they actually have a four pack of my lucky beans?’ In reality, that was only a lucky four pack if I was looking into some home loved version of a burrito. Don’t ask. It makes sense in my head. That’s all that matters.

I’m 15 shots in to the evening. Plus half a vodka beverage. I figure 16 shots is good. Don’t you? You figure, right? Yeah. We all do. It’s what we have in common. But you know what we don’t have in common? Leprosy. And that’s good, cause hella contagious. We’d have to start our own colony. But it’s okay, because I like you. If you want to start a colony, I’m totally down for that.

So anyway,  bought the wrong beans. I said, this year, I was taking no chances. I’d be following all the proper protocoals. The correct beans. Proper ham. Appropriate intoxication. 2016 would roll in with some big-ass approval, and I’d be making. Last year, it could have destroyed me. Sure. You’ve been through worse. But I’m a wimp, and it was bad enough. No more, please and thank you. I survived it, and ‘fuck you, universe’, for trying to wreck my train. It will take far more than you (or even you) to bring me off.

Somehow, I think that’s a bad participle.

IMG_2214Will I resolve anything? Fuck no! Do any of us, ever? We thrive on drama and pain. It’s true. Don’t be a fucknut here. Pull your head out of denial’s ass and see for yourself. We ARE Shirley Manson’s brain waves. I love her. Shoutout! But really, think about it. Life is boring when it’s good. We don’t recognize the good, even when it’s honey glazed and steaming on a fucking gold leafed platter. 24 karat perfection, and we are looking for the flawed gemstone in the crown.

But it’s not because we are emo hogs. I’m not. Neither is she. The reality is, we don’t grow when there is only light. We wither under too much warmth. Rain, pain, all that guts us, isn’t that what teaches us to grow? Not because we are smart enough to see that shit for what it is, but because, in hindsight, we get it. Rear view, bitches. We emerge the tumbled obsidian in some hippy’s hemp choker. And that’s okay. That shit’s beautiful! You go, with your shiny, black self. You’d look great on my finger. Just saying.

I looked at the end of this year with incredible dread. I hate ends. Even FullSizeRenderwhen it’s the end of a very bad thing. 2015…well, it wasn’t a great ting. But still, I didn’t look forward to ending it. And now, it’s a new year. There are no imminent apocalypses. BORING. But also, anti-climatic. I miss a good Mayan/Hopi prophesy, don’t you?! When it was one of those ‘piss or get off the pot’ scenarios? But with banderos?

Do or die. And we all did. Most of us didn’t die. Hemingway was loving it. I don’t know why, exactly. But he was. I might be loving it. I can’t tell.

Shot #16. One for every year this century has fucked me. I’m still standing. A little wobbly, sure, but alcohol. I’ll be standing when the sun comes back up. And most of you will, too. Unless you’re really hung over, in which case, HA! But not because I’m mean. I’d still give you a hug. I like you. Really. If you only liked me half as much, we’d be golden. Maybe, one day, you will.

In the meantime, I won’t resolute. I will drink responsibly. Meaning, when I drink, I’ll be serious about that shit. (And, no, I will NOT drive.) I have some goals for myself, and they will be good ones. They have to do with finishing a novel. Possibly a short story collection, too. AND ever a poetry collection. Why not? I sometimes string words in unexpectedly coherent ways.

And you thought you were the only ones.

So, here’s shot #16. My goal was not to be able to remember tonight. I’m getting close. I need relief. My heart beats too hard for this. Sometimes the palpitations leave bruises under my skin. Here’s to feeling less, at least for just a little while.

All my love to you. Stay strong. Your light always makes a difference to me.




I Hate It When Monkey Articulating Goes Awry… A.K.A. THE Obligatory, and Possibly Final New Year’s Post

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 1, 2012 by jezzywolfe

If monkey articulation is the only thing I remember about tonight, then I guess that’s still not half bad.

When I realized my plans had been changed, I said “Screw it. I’m taking this party on the road.” Then I grabbed the Peachtree and cherry vodka and big ass gallon of Tropicana and headed out just long enough to miss giving all my fuzzbutts a New Years cuddle, Damn. Right now they’re looking at me pretty weirdly but they’ll be good enough sports to tolerate my excessive adoration. Maybe I should wait til they wake up, though. Its important to sleep enough. If I make any reservations at all, it will be to sleep more this year.

No, I won’t waste those proclimations on wait loss. Sure, I want a smaller dairyair, but people don’t really plan on keeping any of those promisse anyway. And hey, what if we die? Seriously. It’s 20friggin12. Aren’t we supposed to be screwed this year? Do YOU want to spend the last new year party making bogus promises about slenderizing when you might not get another chance to gouge yourself on pie and ice cream and cream puffs? Oh crap, I totally have some cream puffs downstairs that I need to eat. They should be ready by now. I hope I’m not sick in the morning though, cause that’s a waist of pastry. A good puff is a terrified thing to waste.

Earlier I had a mini bar set out on the ottoman by my bed. It was convenient, and oh so delicious. And I don’t mean mini as in small boottles, cause those fuckers were huge! I decide tonight that fuzzy navals were better with a splish of cherry vodka in them. I didn’t drink too many, just enough to not drink too many.And then I played card games on television and read subtitles out loud, while replacing all words beginning with ‘f’ with the word ‘ferret’. It actually made sense.

I should have something to say that’s really profound about the coming apocalipst. The kids are rooting for zombie infestation, but I’m pretty sure it is more an invasion of solar flares and Kardashians that will usher in that fateful event. And then those mayans can finally shut their yaps cause I know damn well they don’t mention a word about Kardashians in that colander they keep bugging us about. I wonder how many shows we are gonna be subjected to this year? I think at least five. I hope not though. My dvr is almost full again.

People sound stupid when they initialize their cursing. Come on. Don’t say “Effin cow S.” Say “Effin cow shit.” But make sure you smile, cause people like a smiler. I don’t smile enough. That’s because I look drunk when I do. Or maybe I just smile alot when I drink, so I think I drunk alot even though I probably just had some glasses of mixed frou frou beverages for a while.

Tonight when I was sitting on a couch at someone else’s house, I looked at the floor and realized somehow the little cushiony insert I put in my heels was laying on their carpet. Which was freaky, cause I never took my shoes off. What the hell? I’m so glad it was just a shoe insert, and not something harder to explain. Algebra is my kryptonight. Thank goodness no one wanted to discuss calculust.

Well, I certainly didn’t shed any light tonight. Remind me not to drink when I want to sound articulate. But not monkey skeleton articulate. That shit cost $2800!

Good night, my friends. We have at least 300 days to placate those dead Maypans and steer our future in the non abysmic direction. I think they just needed more fish oil. The kind that doesn’t cause fishy burps. Stinky savages!

Merry New Years and Happy Apocapitalist.