Whale-Cats and Lagomorphs at New Year's

The New Year has arrived (and by this time, all over the world, although this doesn't take into account Chinese New Year or other forms of new year). And, as is my custom, I have the nerve to imagine that on the whole it will go well for me personally while admitting that perhaps the world overall will continue to be subject to indignities like global warming and pointless wars. It seems a little callous to admit that I'll probably be enjoying myself through another year full of death and destruction.
Did I prepare a set of New Year's resolutions?
Well, no. It has been a good many years since I bothered to do that. There is no longer any reason to resolve that I will succeed in having sex before I die, and I don't suppose it will be of any more use now than previously to resolve to become a famous writer. (While I am not quite as famous as I had in mind thirty years ago, I am much more famous than I was then, and I expect that in another thirty years I will be as famous as there is any point in being.) I have no idea what other sorts of resolutions I might once have come up with. One can always hope to become a better person, but I try to keep that in mind year-round, as it is rather dull for a resolution.
My New Year's Eve was not perhaps as exotic as last year's, and did not involve a slumber party in Prague, but it was quite agreeable. First, John and I dropped by his friend Elizabeth's to play a few rounds of her proverb game. This fine entertainment involves one person reading the beginning of a proverb (the more obscure, the better) and the others inventing endings for it. The correct ending has to be guessed at. There was a fairly large group in attendance and the endings were exceedingly imaginative. I will merely point out that it is not wise to thatch your roof in the wind or to stir the fire with your sword. Furthermore, the more naked the jackal, the longer the tail. (Do not ask me why, the latter is the fault of the Dutch. I am not acquainted with any naked jackals.)
After a time, we proceeded on to another festive event, somewhat at the other end of San Francisco. This too was well attended. Many of the attendees were wearing wigs, so we were nonplussed at not having been forewarned. (I do own a metallic blue wig, but it is in storage.) A fine time was had and I must admit that John looked better in the blonde wig than I did. We were intrigued by his appearance in the Howard Stern wig but it did not quite have the je-ne-sais-quois of the blonde wig. I am desolate that I had left my camera behind. But on the other hand, I discovered that one of John's old friends is acquainted with a childhood friend of mine.
In the morning, Cesar joined us for breakfast and we roamed around the Mission. The weather was relatively warm in the sun and we felt quite content, or so I imagine since this was true of myself and I have no reason, in this case, not to extrapolate to my companions.
The rest of the day involved a fair amount of reading (at least on my part) and the viewing of a long and surreal Harry Smith film that involved a watermelon, an umbrella, and numerous other props. John and I contemplate the creation of a vaguely similar film about that languid mythic creature, the WHALE-CAT. The whale-cat would go on its seasonal migration to the hot spring, although it might stop to read a few books on the way. (This opus will be added to the list of projects I would like to undertake if I ever take an animation class at Pittsburgh Filmmakers.)
On that inscrutable note, I believe the new year can be said to be suitably greeted.