Thursday, January 3, 2013

The Year That Is

Not long before twelve, I tried to do a symbolic and physical poo. I thought about flushing away the waste of the year (although in hindsight I remember learning how long it takes the body to digest food, and realise the enormous steak I had put away earlier that night probably only just exited this morning?), and when, despite my best efforts, my body only barely obliged, I was pleased to think that 2012 had been such a year that only a little needed to be expelled. It made so much sense, after an afternoon-evening-night of mind-clearing alcohol.

The countdown wasn't one of our best, but it didn't matter in the least. We were dancing and trying to decide on the year's song (a tradition), and had just thought Psy really had earned the spot and that we were ready with a minute to spare when the fireworks in the estuary began, and we all ran out and started cheering and saying Happy New Year and kissing each other. Earlier in the day, Vincent and Paul had seen a barge going out into the middle of the estuary as they set off for their harbour crossing, and overheard a grandfather explaining to his granddaughter what was on board, which they had relayed to us when they came back, and we all got very excited. During the fireworks our timekeeper came running out onto the deck with the clock and began the countdown and then we all started cheering and saying Happy New Year and kissing each other again, and it felt so beautiful and special to be watching fireworks with which we had nothing to do, and being together, and pretty much having completed a human pyramid only half an hour before.

Not long after, I went to pee and found I was able to do a bit more, and when I looked down at it, it was a perfect replica of a fortune cookie. I couldn't have been more elated. I ran upstairs to tell someone, and thought maybe it meant my future lies within me (it makes more sense when you are drunk) but the first person I told thought maybe it meant my future is shit. I reject that, and even if it's true, my excitement means that I will still find happiness in a shit future.

The rest of the beginning was a lot of dancing and a bit of dj-ing, which I discovered involves a fair bit of manipulation through music. I kept people up as long as I could, and then during my concession song was inspired by Neil Young's invitation to go out and feel the night, and cajoled Vincent into taking me down to the estuary for a nature swim. It was short, and my ears were very sore after I put my head into the freezing water, but it sealed the night as the best possible start to a year. The Year That Is.

Earlier, Rhi and I had bullied Shane onto the dancefloor by boxing him in with dance moves, and came up with the year's modus operandi: Change through Dancing and Bullying. The gods lead she who will; she who won't, they drag. Etc. But with love.

Happy New Year, everybody.

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