What’s your new year’s resolution? Mine is: don’t crack up. The apparent simplicity of this resolution belies the ingenious strategies I’m implementing in its honour.
Strategy 1: develop an elaborate fantasy world and retreat into it regularly. Let’s face it: reality is pretty gross at the moment, and we need alternatives.
That’s why last night, instead of employing my fabled skill of finding New Year’s Eve parties, I journeyed to the middle of the Connemara bog and spent the last hours of two fucking thousand and cunting sixteen (as the year will always be known) casting spells. Oh yes, I’m basically regressing to my teenage Wican phase. Does that count as not cracking up? I’m unsure. Let’s continue.
Thanks to the enchantedness of my small but dedicated coven, here are things you can look forward to in 2017:
- Trump’s impeachment (Spell, incanted around a millennia old Standing Stone, went “EachImpeachaTrumpaChump”)
- An end to the rise of global fascism (Global fascism is currently buried in a worry pebble, being pickled by bog juice, so you can just take that one right off your mind)
- A romantic life partner (For me. What? I can’t get romantic partners for everyone. Cast your own love spell. How? Haven’t you seen Mary Poppins? Jane and Michael Banks want the perfect babysitter so they write down all their requirements and sing it to their Dad and then their Dad rips it up and throws it in the fire and then Mary Poppins comes down the chimney. Love spells are exactly like that, except with sage cleansing first. I am expecting my soot-speckled hottie at any moment. And so can you.)
- Strength to bear the bad stuff, like the fact that you can’t sing your list of love requirements to your Dad because he just died and even if he hadn’t just died he’d have thought you were going completely mad.
You are welcome.
Strategy 2: Maybe get some counseling? That’s probably a good idea. But hang on ‘til I ask the tarot.