What. A. Year.

Reviewing a wild 2024 ahead of a potentially insane 2025.

A lot can change in a year. That’s a cliche for a reason: if life can be upended in an instant, twelve months is an eternity. I’ve spent a lot of time in the past week pondering where I was a year ago: in the kind of apartment men find themselves during a divorce, sharing an awkward Christmas, about to head to Australia to see friends and family and mark a decade since my dad’s death.

Today? What should have been a painful slog—the kind of emotional endurance test you just have to get through—has been the best year of my life. Elevator Girl and I capped it with a white Christmas in the mountains, where I proposed (she said yes!) because I’ve never been more sure of anything. Just because it took me the better part of four decades to experience real love doesn’t mean I’m too stupid to both understand and embrace it. We’re ending the year as we spent it: filled with laughter and joy, excited and more optimistic than ever.

I wish I could say the same about the state of the nation.

We get a retread president in three weeks’ time, older but not wiser. More shameless and less sane. More enabled and less restrained. If we were all watching the second season of “Agent Orange: America’s Descent into Madness” it’d be fantastic entertainment. But actually living it generates constant existential dread, with a side of deep embarrassment.

I tried to cover all of this and more in the past year. Despite a few lulls, this is my 63rd post of 2024 and my 100th since deciding almost 18 months ago, in the immortal words of Frank Costanza: “I’ve got a lot of problems with you people and now you're gonna hear about it.”

I’m proud of them all because they reflect my state of mind at the time they were written, although I’ll readily admit not every one is a winner. That’s writing: sometimes it sings; sometimes it’s as pitchy as Taylor Swift without Auto-Tune (settle there, Swifties. Even you have to admit she can’t sing). But it seems appropriate to dust a few off for anyone who missed them on the first go-around:

• The year began with a quick trip to New York City that reminded me of all I’ve gained—and the joy of community.

• As election nervousness mounted, I wrote about the need for Democrats to drop wokeness in service of, er, actually winning. A few weeks later, my anxiety began to get worse: both around Americans’ affection for authoritarianism and the growing problem posed by Joe Biden.

• Ever walked out of a movie? It’s worth giving up now and then.

• One minute earlier or later and I may have never met Elevator Girl. Timing is everything.

• Our tech addiction is frying our brains, making the wealthiest wealthier, and we’re rolling the dice again with AI.

• There was national shock at a mass stabbing in Bondi, which would here be known as “Sunday.”

• I left 50 behind and officially began the downhill run to oblivion.

• Trump amnesia began to grip the nation, especially among lost young men.

• My friend Michael Yiannakis’ final gift was to remind me of what’s really important in life (hint: it’s not stuff)

• A reconnaissance mission to the east coast convinced me going back in time was impossible. Unfortunately, someone else was in control.

• What happened to business casual? Perhaps everyone needs some old school inspiration.

• I didn’t watch the US presidential debate, cringed as Biden tried to circle the wagons, relished the Kamala Harris bounce, and spotted the sexism and stupidity that ultimately sunk her candidacy.

• Write a novel? Absolutely. Kinda. Well, I at least have an emerging plot!

• Why do some people live longer? It sure isn’t because of workout regimens or supplements or all the life hacks we use to try to compensate for not living the way we should.

• Trump won. Everyone lost.

• I began a series trying to learn what I’ve missed in 23-odd years away from Australia.

• The murder of a healthcare CEO exposed an industry that serves no purpose other than to get in between patients and physicians.

Of course, there was much more. But as much as these random musings began for personal reasons—I just had an urge to rediscover my voice—I’m delighted so many of you read them. Any writer who tells you they don’t care about that is full of it. So, thank you. Have a wonderful new year and if you’re short of a solid resolution, you can always vow to have more sex. Because you should.

A note about whatever this is …

After writing a few thousand articles for newspapers and magazines, I spent a long time trying a bunch of other stuff. I guess I figured what came (relatively) easily must by definition be less valuable, so I wandered in the corporate wilderness, becoming increasingly frustrated and doing work that felt increasingly lousy.

Sometimes with age comes wisdom, and I’ve realized finding something (relatively) easy ain’t a bad thing. So, this is a space where I’m resurrecting writing for myself, on topics weird and wild and wonderful, all from the perspective of an Australian living in the United States.

Posts will appear when the mood takes me, but I do try to be consistently inconsistent—sometimes it’ll be a couple of days between drinks; sometimes a week. But if you subscribe, you’ll get a email letting you know I’m ranting. Again.