Tonight there is a progressive chill over Gotham City. My window is open just a crack, enough keep my air from a stale nose bleed and my senses calm. Stillness threatens me.
In less than 24 hours, chaos will engage the city as drunken crowds usher in the New Year with confetti, verbal nonsense, and vomit. A squabble amongst Murray Hill girls will ensue over a broken heel, the original face-lifts from the East Side will sip bad champagne at the West Side’s Met Opera, and a Meth-Head will lose his Blackberry on the liquor stained floors at a Chelsea boy bump n’ grind. Did I say Blackberry? I meant Iphone.
All in all, this could be argued, a typical night for America’s Metropolis. Alas, it’s the dawn of another odd numbered year.
Obama will become the new matinee idol for the 24 hour news cycle. Palin will probably rear her head to inspire comedy and those who follow the ‘end of days’ handbooks. The corporate sector will utilize the economic meltdown for any ol’ excuse to prey upon their drones, while stuffing the linings of their top dogs’ overcoats stashed in foreign, skeleton filled closets. Believers will be betrayed, blood will pass hands, and a relic will reboot a forgotten career.
As I delve into my mental debris, anxiety chastises my slumber. I can’t shake the prospect that nothing may change. I need things to change… desperately.
2008 was a year of struggle for me. It was a year of love lost, friends gained. It was a year of intense, personal moral debate. It was a year I witnessed the ominous power of drugs destroying the prospects of humble lives. It was a year of compromise and defeat.
When I have discussed my year with family, friends and those who would listen, I am often nudged to write about these experiences… to share the wealth of storytelling.
My mind will race, constructing the dialogue, the venue, the outcome, and the execution of revealing these follies… shall the stories refrain from fiction, deviate from truth?
There is so much to tell. There is so much that cannot be cast aside. My strength to render a plot weakens the prospect for a new day and simpler journey.
But, what of my journey?
Next year, more than any other, I want new life breathed into all my essence. That could be a mess, ‘all my essence’, but I salivate at that hypnotic prospect.
I don’t know how to manifest this new inner destiny’s child. I don’t know if manifesting is just more convoluted bull to rationalize the irrational. What of it?
The obvious contenders for relinquishing past burdens are the smoking, start some physical exercise, and with that some demons may perish or go dormant. The gift is to realize one can craft their future… guide… and tend.
So, for 2008, I thank you for another year of introspection, wonder, resilience and awakening. You aged me. Thanks…
2009, bring me some youth – some much needed bravado and assurance. Allow me to get a step up on whatever wicked underlings that may be in-store. Keep the boat afloat and the sail up high.
I’m not getting any younger… and there’s a whole lot of life I’m gonna live… have to live… want to live…
Peace Out ’08.