Black Friday, for example, is a circuitous proof of this point.
I’m actually kind of afraid of winter this year. I dread January’s bleak nights. The cold wind will be bitter on the industrial truck route I take to work before I start to sweat. But in the darkness of the evenings, and my reluctance to leave my apartment, I will write prodigiously.
But I’m also excited and somewhat anxious about 2011, that weird odd year when we become more comfortable in this decade and get a little closer to the end of the world. Don’t expect any major breakthroughs next year; I bet it will be a year of expectation. Scoff, do you? The cultural unconscious is a powerful thing.