Sanctus Januarius

Of all the rituals that accompany the new year, few give voice to delusion better than the so-called resolution. In a world where only a few can win, where strength is routinely denied to all but the strong, there is something more than a little perverse in this practice that pretends otherwise. And yet, the delusion is not entirely that. For only a weakened vision could fail to detect the utopian bent of all such resolutions; the deep longing that things might, just this once, come out otherwise; the true voice that prays, dear God, do not make this a year like all the rest. In the recesses of even our deepest perversions lies the goodness that could spell their end.