New Year Crap

I’ve been thinking about this the last few days, and I resolved to myself not to write a piece on New Year’s resolutions, because it would be a very short piece. Why wait until some arbitrary point in the year to work on self-improvement?. Why not just do it now, if now is March 24^th or October 17^th? I probably sound like Neil DeGrasse Tyson, but he’s an annoying shit, and I don’t feel like losing the readers I have.

2023 was a very good year for me. I wrote about 60 of these essays, finished a short story collection (which I hope will come out in late 2024), wrote 234 issues of The Daily Dirtnap, 51 issues of The 10^th Man, a few dozen other newsletters, recorded a bunch of podcasts, and sold about 5,000 copies of Those Bastards, which was a good result. You may not think that selling 5,000 copies of a book is a good result. The average book sells 500 copies, including some very heavily publicized ones. I hit a few podcasts to promote Those Bastards, but aside from that, it was all word-of-mouth. And the book continues to sell about 60-80 copies a month. I also graduated with my MFA in Writing from SCAD, successfully defended my thesis, and now my thesis is being published by Harriman House in three weeks. So, it was a good year in terms of output.

But is that really how you measure the success of a year? Here’s how you measure the success of a year: were you happy? For most of the year, I was happy, but from about March to June, I was having a meltdown. As I got closer to the end of my MFA program, I began having paranoid delusions about getting kicked out for some trifling thing, and I spent those three months in a state of sheer terror. Of course, everything worked out fine (as it always does), and my graduation was one of the happiest days of my life. But in terms of mental health, 2023 was not the best, nor was it the worst. I was happy, joyous, and free—most of the time. The goal is to be happy, joyous and free all of the time.

In 2023, was I kind, or was I a dickhead?. I was a dickhead a few months ago, and blew up a long-term friendship. Like one of those cartoons where someone pushes down the lever on one of those boxes of TNT. Blew it sky-high. The relationship was probably doomed to fail, anyway, but I could have handled it with patience and tolerance. Aside from that, it was a dickhead-free year. Hey, not everyone likes me. Guess what—I am not in charge of what other people think of me. When I first heard that, in 2006, it was as if I had struck spiritual gold. Not everyone has to like you, and most of the time, they’re not even thinking about you. They’re thinking about themselves.

A lot of people resolve to get in shape in the new year. I don’t have too much interest in that—too much effort, not enough reward, but once we move into the house, we will have a gym that is one flight of stairs away. I will have no excuse. And I’ll be working out of the house, and not going to Arby’s for lunch. So things are bound to get better. But no, running a marathon in 2024 is not my ambition (done that), and benching 325 is not my ambition (done that), but if I could drop about 30 pounds by making small changes to diet and exercise, I would call that an accomplishment. And maybe go back on the GLP-1s, too. But generally, I am pretty scornful of people with their physical fitness New Year’s Resolutions. You know how it is—the Purple Palace is really crowded in January and February, and then it thins out. And there is a reason for that—you can’t have any lasting change in your behavior unless you’ve hit an emotional bottom. You see people do that, sometimes—they go from 400 pounds to 150 pounds, and keep it off. They were sick and tired of being sick and tired. Losing 20 pounds is a lot harder than losing 250 pounds, believe it or not. There is no compelling reason to, other than pure vanity, and that is not a powerful enough motivator.

I would say that making more money is a goal in 2024, but I have made less money for each of the last two years. The environment for research spending peaked in 2021 and has been going downhill since. I would say that I could make more money trading, but you know how that is: there’s a lot of luck involved, and you can’t force it. If No Worries goes hockey stick and sells a million copies, I won’t have to worry about money, I can tell you that. Also, I am working on some other projects. One is a secret. The other is that I am doing some exploratory research on starting an investment firm. If any of these hits, money will not be an issue in 2024 and beyond. There is not a lot that I want in this world. Really, the only thing that I want is a condo in Miami Beach, which I have wanted since 2008. So that is a financial goal of mine. Pay off the house, save up some money, and get a 2-bedroom place in the Setai. If I am fantasizing, that is what I am fantasizing about. I am not setting any goals. If it happens, it happens.

Self-improvement is a recurring theme here at WGGTB, so you would think I would have a lot to say about self-improvement on New Year’s Eve, but I really don’t, other than to say that people talk a big game and then go back to being the disorganized slobs that they’ve always been. When the pain gets great enough, they’ll change. People don’t change when they see the light, they change when they feel the heat. And starting off the new year hung over is never a good plan. That’s another New Year’s resolution that is inevitably doomed to fail—drinking less. Dry January is a thing. Let me tell you this: Dry January is incapable of curing a true alcoholic. There are plenty of full-blown alcoholics who can give up drinking for a month and go back to being alcoholics. Giving up drinking for a month does not prove that you’re not an alcoholic. And all the rules that people set for themselves—only drink on weekends—never drink before 6pm—only have two drinks—inevitably fall by the wayside. There is only one solution if you think you have a problem with alcohol—complete abstinence. You can’t have just one drink, because that drink takes a drink, and then that drink takes another drink. I haven’t had a drink in almost 18 years, and not once have I woken up one morning with a sense of doom for having said or done something stupid. It’s a pretty good way to live.

I am something of a workaholic, and actually, I would like to work less in 2024. I’ve come to appreciate the joys of free time—sitting and zoning out in front of a football game or baseball game. Since age 24, I have always thought that I had to be working all the time. And I have accomplished a whole bunch. I have books planned out to 2026—I can take some time to pet the cats. I don’t always have to have my ass on fire. I don’t have to be Elon Musk. I think someday, I won’t regret sitting in front of a baseball game as much as I thought I would. We all need down time. Not too much, though—the definition of hell is where man has nothing to do but amuse himself.

In 2024, I hope you are wildly professionally successful, make stupid amounts of money, and donate a stupid amount to charity. I hope you are generous with your time. I hope you are good wives and husbands and mothers and fathers. I hope you cultivate a relationship with your higher power. I really don’t give a crap if you can fit into that swimsuit—that’s your ego talking, your desire for approval from others. I really don’t give a crap if you run that marathon because you read the Goggins book. Life isn’t a contest where we see who can endure the most pain. I hope you are happy and fulfilled in the new year, most of all, free of neurosis, paranoia, and depression. Happiness, like a lot of things, is a choice.