Card of the Day: Five of Wands, reversed
Currently Listening To: Emperor X, “Schopenhauer in Berlin”
Welcome to a new year, folks. I have neglected this blog yet again, and instead of starting a new one, I’m deciding to pay more attention here. I’m paying for the hosting, after all. I might as well use it.
I had thought about reviving an old brand, Socrates’ Closet, but then I figured: Let sleeping dogs lie. I used that name on Tumblr for many years, and while it remains near and dear to my heart, I’ve grown past that stage of my life. If I write something, I am going to put it under my name and face the consequences. (As if anything I write is so edgy. I have never been an edgelord and my previous attempts at trolling in my younger years made me a laughingstock.)
But anyway, here we are at the start of 2026, licking our wounds from the previous year while we practice writing the new number on our checks. My wife Becca and I gave cookies to our next-door neighbors who are our landlords. We have never been so kind to landlords before, but these guys have been quality so far. In our few months of living in our current abode, they have fixed our sagging front porch, repaid us for the paint supplies we bought, salted our walkway, and ensured we knew about street parking restrictions. Previous landlords either went AWOL, took months to make repairs, or chewed us out for the slightest issue (which was 99 percent of the time not our fault.) I know it goes against my usual left-leaning politics, but I don’t mind these landlords. We’ll have to see if I still carry that sentiment when the new lease comes up for discussion.
I look back on what fulfilled me in 2025, and I see my creative output: Two albums, an EP, and a thick handful of poems which I shared with friends and other captive audiences. I see new and reinforced connections. I see new observances of love and kinship, methods of expression, streaks of confidence. And while last year kicked my ass with other personal matters, I feel good knowing I am not alone: The two-thousand-and-twenty-fifth year after the birth of Jesus H. Christ kicked everyone’s ass.
But I am glad I ended the year with a long stretch of rest and relaxation. I sat and watched all of Heated Rivalry with Becca, caught up on quite a bit of sleep, grabbed drinks and shot the shit with a fellow poetry patron, and began to form the building blocks of what I hope will amount to another productive year. Meanwhile, I realized that the old forms of filling my dopamine receptors – the social media apps – don’t do it for me anymore, and although I will continue to post on this blog and utilize them to stay connected to the people and communities I hold dear, I will no longer succumb to the endless scroll. I know I say that all the time, and I often fail, but I must commit to it in 2026. I can not give my time to these platforms when they do not serve me.
So what serves me now? Reading poetry, especially from local artists, with some of whom I’ve shared a stage. Finding new music through recommendations or going to solid sites instead of relying on the streaming platforms to spoon-feed me. Long-form writing that hits the cerebral cortex, instead of just focusing on the headlines and headaches in the comments from people who only read the headlines. And perhaps collaboration with creative colleagues, creating something beautiful with other people instead of limiting myself to just myself. I have always been too protective of my work and myself, and I think such guardedness remains important in these dangerous times. But I am putting importance in finding the right people with whom I can hash out ideas and from whom I can learn.
And of course, long walks, even if I take them on a treadmill. You could not catch me dead to rights hustling my ass outside in this teeth-chattering New England winter, but I’ll spend an hour at the gym vibing to my antifascist punk playlist on a 3.5 percent incline at a leisurely pace.
Anyway, I am running out of steam for this post. I hope you’re well. Thank you to the many people at the Boston Poetry Slam for your inspiration, and to Robert for reminding me that this blog exists. How are you, Rob? I know I said I wasn’t going to use my social media apps much more, but I will check in to see what kind of cocktails you’re stirring up. If you and Joe are in the area, don’t be a stranger.