To Our Guests

To this year. The year of all years. The year that won't quit.

The year to take any regulatory implants in for routine maintenance. Write it down as part of a list. Make sure the other items on the list seem real menial to you, so this essential task has sparkling significance. So it stands out. Plastic things break. Metal objects are not dependable.

To the year.

Three hundred and bag-change of disappointing feelings and goals that won't be met. The guy obscured through the subway door window stretching that plastic bag to its limit doesn't have a home in the sense that you define it. And the leather bag next to him contains hundreds more bags of the same or similar dimensions. Filled with nothing. Go home and eat an egg. Go home and squeeze out a great big one.

To day tripping this year as part and parcel to toasting the year proper! Sometimes you just got to get away from the grind. Hop the train and hop the bus. Take the subway somewhere unexpected. Bring a metal detector! Keep the change!

To our year. When fun will take over and strap on the helmet that we made for it with our own hands.

The year that Daddy won't know when to stop tickling.

To us.

To the year.