I spent the better portion of the day at the Poetry Project’s marathon reading, as has been my New Year’s Day custom for going on five years now.  The experience did not vary much from what I wrote last year, nor did I expect-slash-desire it to.  Though, it might bear mentioning that atonal, anarchist music collective Foamola did a tongue-in-cheek anti-blogging blues song, which, part of me is like “Oof, hating on blogs, get over it please who even cares about blaaahgs anymore and also what Internet are you reading?” but then part of me is like, “Oh no, I absolutely get it.” (Regardless, it was a crowd pleaser, though John S. Hall’s multi-part poem about Facebook friend requests, which followed, articulated more acutely and humorously what some might see as the scourge of the Internet.)  ANYWAY!

As always with this motley assemblage of readers, the tone and mood shifts from morose to lighthearted to strident to just plain obtuse.  Yet, it is always worthwhile, this “secular mass,” and sitting (or standing, or squatting depending on the size of the crowd) there patiently, free of expectation, gives the experience a feeling alternately of epiphany and atonement.  There are worse ways to greet a new year.