everything old is new again...

new year's eve...a little over a week into official winterland and i am trying to resist the urge to hibernate...i imagine that if i locked myself away...with pen, paper, laptop and coffee brewing...that suddenly my eastern european roots...those of the suffering russian stock...would run through my veins...out my fingertips and i would be the next tolstoy or maybe pasternak...but this has not come to pass...mostly i would eat and get fat...because the russian stock would send me in search of bread...i would dream of lush pumpernickels and such...as 2012 closes i promise not to beat myself up so much...the stack of poetry rejections will not define who i am as a writer...certainly not as a person...maybe there will be a few unspoken resolutions..ones i know i may partially keep...such is human nature...as i catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window i wonder what i would look like...a russian writer 100 years ago...getting it all on paper while revolution swept like a blizzard around me...well, maybe the moment hasn't arrived for my inner-tolstoy...but i bet i'd rock one of those big russian hats...lara and anna karenina would have nothing on me...wishing you peace in 2013....