More than 48 hours of 2012 have already passed, but we know that a New Year has never truly dawned without announcement of something that James Franco is doing—the commencement of another Franco project ending that uncertain limbo between Franco projects that we now use to mark time. Thankfully you can all finally kiss your dates and play “Auld Lang Syne” and then have drag queens spit on you: Franco is prepping a novel—his first work of fiction since the poorly-received-by-pop-addled-idiots short story collection Palo Alto—and has just sold its publishing rights to Amazon, whose recently emboldened attempt to grow its own imprint threatens to upend traditional publishing models forever, which is something they probably said to James Franco, probably in a wild-eyed and flamboyant manner they thought he might find attractive.