the new year, stranglers, etc.

Since the Kensington Strangler started exhibiting his knack for murdering young girls a few weeks ago, my mother has consistently reminded me to watch out for him. As if leaving the apartment to commune with other humans wasn’t difficult enough, now I fight a vague but nagging awareness that the ghoulish character and I are like two points on a map of Philadelphia, fluctuating in relative distance but always fairly close to one another.

The hesitation I feel about going out alone--even to meet up with people--is best categorized as inertia. Generally I’m the type that enjoys staying in. But it’s a bit tough even when I want to venture outside.

I’m writing this on a train, en route to a dinner with two friends. It took way more coaxing than it should’ve to get out the door.
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The above is from a few nights ago. I had to quit writing because the train approached my stop, and the moment to finish the thought is now passed. But I was going to say something about my unexpected exhilaration at traveling alone through the guts of this city and how I'm going to live my life more. Together with the recent move and a chance to relax at last, everything added up to optimism. I felt anchored in myself and this place.

And now it's New Year's Eve, the cliche juncture to make claims like this, but. I think it's gonna be a good year.

If you're reading this: happy new year, y'all! Raise your glasses (and/or the corners of your lips) to new beginnings. Let's make it good.

Love,
J

The world is a weird place

Exhibit A: Koran written in Saddam's blood

Exhibit B: King Henry IV's preserved head

Discovered at work, Jan Toorop's "The Three Brides":