2005-01-02 - 3:00 a.m.
And it went on New Year's Eve, like it has gone, at almost every single social gathering we've had in the house on Davenport Street. There's a conglomeration of folks that I know fairly well or not at all or have just recently met. Their faces and features and voices blend together by right around midnight (when I'm a little too drunk and all the sharper edges in any given area have blurred and people have been reduced to floating heads, goofy representations of their actual selves). There were Sonja's earrings and Corey's hair and Courtney's hands. There were several bottles and packs of cigarettes and novelty shots in pretty, pastel glasses. It never really compares to you.
My year was transitional and awkward and full of battered down, broken up, mediocre moments that made me feel really satisfied--just like the cold I have right now. I've talked about my period cramps before and this cold is a similar thing. Being ill makes me feel big. It makes me feel like I done got it together, like I could survive on small, frozen birds and melted snow if I were caught in an avalanche. I feel big.
My New Year's resolution is, esstentially, that if I my outsides have to be a representation of my lifestyle, I hope that my lifestyle says, "face-washer, regular runner, less-than-ridiculous drinker, and semi-smoker" as opposed to "crazy asshole who takes little-to-no care of herself."
This year in movies:
Dodgeball
This year in music:
David Bowie (shut up)
This year in bawesome-ness:
Courtney, Ben, Sonja, Corey, Cable (the regulars--those who make this category every year--you know who you are)
This year in Nawesome-ness:
Hitler, Mussolini,George W., and Joel Schintler
Things I wish were available on the internet:
pictures of Deadwood Marco (I've run out of things to which I might masturbate furiously)
Love you all
