…In which, as the year comes to its end, our friends and collaborators look back on the past twelve months and share their moments;
I thought I’d finished my book, but I haven’t. Just two more chapters to go. I hope.
I haven’t finished my PhD yet either.
I did get an actual job in an actual office, after years of freelancing and studying and winging it, and I now have a salary for the first time in over a decade. It has been exhausting, humiliating and tedious to be skint for so long and I’m glad that it’s over for now. I continue to await the collapse of capitalism.
The incipient collapse of some wonderful great invisible things – democracy, kindness, justice, solidarity, security – has caused tightening in my chest and lots of sighing. We’ll see what else it causes in 2017.
I have spent a lot of time imagining what the world would be like without noisy overconfident white men. And noisy overconfident white women. It calms me down.
Imagine all the room we’d have, and all the fun.
I miss my mum.
I got a cat. I love her.
I’ve put on half a stone but I’ve decided to just sit up straight and not worry about it. Also, my tits look great.
In the summer I went to Cape Town, Oslo, Marrakech and Paris, and I had a lot lot lot of fun. Mainly I love London though.
In the spring I had the most serious bout of depression I’ve ever experienced. I could not think of any reason to do anything at all, ever. It was less dramatic than I might have expected, and more thoroughly awful than I can now properly recall.
I recommend friends, family if you’re lucky, therapy and medication.
What a fucking year. I also recommend Fat White Family, The Moonlandingz, Christine & The Queens and Beyoncé. And I’ve been singing Underworld’s If Rah to myself, as a sturdy little mantra while the world goes batshit: “Have a good time. Have a good time. Have a good time.”