I have a trio of Nikki McClure posters on my kitchen wall. I am using them as reminders for how I'd like to conduct myself in the coming year. This in lieu of the sort of resolutions we're ecouraged to take up: lose weight, find a man, chase money. Instead, I seek to congregate with friends & creatives, share a table with them, and collaborate with them in projects that are greater than our individual selves.

Since retreating up the coast, I've calmed my schedule and my nerves, and sculpted a life that allows for more of the creativity that had previously gone fallow. I had resolved to do so a couple years ago, and voila! Now I work two days a week, and have lots of time in which to volunteer and make art, fine meals, and other happy messes.

In this current scheme, I notice I am most successful creatively in a structured environment--a radio show to program, and art class with assignments to interpret and classmates to interact with, a blog or a correspondent to write to. In the open free time here at the coastal shack, it's another story. I'm like the tree in the forest with no-one around. I often just drift about like a dust mote. In fact, I've become something of a hermit. So okay, a little wisdom has come with the ample time I now have for solitary reflection. I am sparkier playing off other people.

Oh yeah, I remember. In past co-ops & accidental communities, there have been massive meals which inspired love, a Winchester Mystery Basement Kitchen Orchestra that inspired the current rage, and downtown mischief that is still going on today. But, lately...?

"Lately," however, is different than "now." And now is a new year, isn't it? Ergo the McClure Resolutions. I'm letting a little more of this gathering and mischief back in.

Tonight, I join the Santa Cruz Trash Orchestra at a performance at UCSC's College Nine/Ten Dining Hall for their College Night. Not clear on what the theme might be of a dining experience for which an orchestra of cast-off metal and plastic could be an accompaniment, but thankfully we won't have to eat there.

And at the end of the week, I'm gathering with pals to celebrate my birthday. Cocktails at one occasion, and the next day, a potluck made up of things we've been hankering for lately. Much more interactive than last year's marking of the occasion, in which I prowled the railroad tracks and unexplored side-trails between my place and the town.

Pip