It’s almost over. It’s almost done. Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get fucked up on New Year’s Eve. The moment that clock strikes midnight (and I’m in Sydney right now, so I’ll get there before most of you guys), I will drink enough Crystal Head vodka to take down Lindsay Lohan.
What a fucker of a year. Makes last year’s retrospective seem light and fun.
Bowie, Cohen, Prince, Ahern, Rickman, er … Burns.
Well, we’ve all gotta go sometime, and Bowie went out with one of his best albums in years. I fucking loved Blackstar.
It’s worth it for the title track alone:
And if that’s not enough for you, it also inspired this absolute fucking tool:
Okay. Have you gathered yourselves now?
Good, then I’ll continue …
Celebrity deaths are a thing. They are, after all, just people (although, I must admit, I’m on the fence re: Paul Daniels).
And while we’re on the subject of celebs – I fulfilled one of my lifelong ambitions and saw Mariah Carey live. And she’s not dead. At least not on the outside.
I was having a chat to a friend recently, and she described 2016 as ‘The last, dying gasp of the rich white man.’ I thought that was pretty apt. Also, it gave a little hope to it all.
Brexit. Trump. Entitled racists bleating on about how their ‘freedoms’ are being taken away. But then you all know about that. Ah, fuck you, 2016. Fuck you.
Ever the Bond-esque globetrotter, I travelled well. Florence, Lake Garda, Sydney (twice) and Cancun.
I had heatstroke. Twice.
I quit my (pretty decent) job of 9 years and sold my flat to emigrate from London to Sydney. I haven’t worked now for over 40 days.
That takes some guts. Well done, Me.
I did it.
In October, Dot Matrix was released. I expected people to hate it or (even worse) not give a shit. You know what? People kinda liked it. Excessive profanity aside, it’s probably one of the most accessible things I have written. The positive response gave me the confidence to pursue more writing, and so in November, I released Property.
Property is (today, at least) the story of which I’m most proud. It’s short, dark, snappy and has a very nasty twist.
Twenty-Seven was released in December. Twenty-Seven is (believe it or not) the most autobiographical of the three released so far. I had so much fun writing as the asshole narrator. I started, perhaps, to ‘find my voice’ here.
I wrote a bunch of other short stories. Some may never see the light of Amazon KDP, some are already being lined up for 2017.
Next year, I’ll keep on releasing one a month (although January’s will be slightly different – more on that later).
One step at a time.
I’m almost at 2,000 Twitter followers. Once I hit the big 2k, I’ll down a shot of vodka, regardless what time of day it is. I’ll probably have to do this at home, due to Sydney’s intolerance of people enjoying a drink or two. Still, I have a better selection than most of the bars in Bondi Junction, so that’s just fine with me.
There can’t be more stormy seas ahead, surely?
But that just sounds like the ramblings of a naive sailor as he heads into a typhoon.
Keep those hatches battened down. I made it through 2016. A little scarred, but harder than Jason Statham at a porn shoot.
Bring it on.