New Year? What's This About a New Year?
I hope everyone is doing something they enjoy tonight, whether it's indulging in mass hysteria in Times Square or going to bed at eleven. A few friends will be popping over tonight for snacks and beverages, dice and cards. I've sipped at a little Spumante myself already, which will gradually build to reckless quaffing by evening's end. (That reminds me, I gotta put bottled water in the fridge...)
Here's a bit of a long-unfinished piece I wrote about how damn great 1976 was. It's what I call a "sketch story," meaning I just string out what I remember on a topic and to hell with capitalization and so forth. These are the last two paragraphs.
that new year's eve, guy lombardo on tv, parents stayed in as, i think, usual.
there are hors d'oeuvres, pedestrian but festive: pigs in blankets, finger slices of pizza, pickled herring for the folks. ginger ale for me. not a party, but family friends, relatives dropping in.
i must have been allowed to stay up in previous years, guy's orchestra was familiar, a comfort.
with most of my family gathered as they would not often be for later december thirty-firsts, i reflected on the year, a fine year for a seven-year-old, and as '76 vanished before my eyes, i cried.
not bawled, not childishly or even child-like, but one tear, quiet and unseen.
it was a goodbye for me.
guy cheerfully led his last auld lang syne.
america again lit and deafened by fireworks.
a roar of celebration that made little sense.
somehow knowing it couldn't get better.
I recently bought a seventies reissue single of Guy Lombardo's peppy original 1956 recording of Auld Lang Syne, which I'll play tonight at midnight. Later, once everyone is gone or passed out and I've drained the last bottle of Champale and licked away the congealing dregs of Velveeta dip in the crock pot, I'll play it again, but as a dirge at 33 and 1/3.
BTW, the single is appropriately b/w "It's Later Than You Think." Something to ponder indeed... tomorrow. Happy New Year!
Here's a bit of a long-unfinished piece I wrote about how damn great 1976 was. It's what I call a "sketch story," meaning I just string out what I remember on a topic and to hell with capitalization and so forth. These are the last two paragraphs.
that new year's eve, guy lombardo on tv, parents stayed in as, i think, usual.
there are hors d'oeuvres, pedestrian but festive: pigs in blankets, finger slices of pizza, pickled herring for the folks. ginger ale for me. not a party, but family friends, relatives dropping in.
i must have been allowed to stay up in previous years, guy's orchestra was familiar, a comfort.
with most of my family gathered as they would not often be for later december thirty-firsts, i reflected on the year, a fine year for a seven-year-old, and as '76 vanished before my eyes, i cried.
not bawled, not childishly or even child-like, but one tear, quiet and unseen.
it was a goodbye for me.
guy cheerfully led his last auld lang syne.
america again lit and deafened by fireworks.
a roar of celebration that made little sense.
somehow knowing it couldn't get better.
I recently bought a seventies reissue single of Guy Lombardo's peppy original 1956 recording of Auld Lang Syne, which I'll play tonight at midnight. Later, once everyone is gone or passed out and I've drained the last bottle of Champale and licked away the congealing dregs of Velveeta dip in the crock pot, I'll play it again, but as a dirge at 33 and 1/3.
BTW, the single is appropriately b/w "It's Later Than You Think." Something to ponder indeed... tomorrow. Happy New Year!
posted by psaur at 8:40 PM
3 Comments:
Happy New Year to you. I guess. I had a few sips of the Jameson's, and a cup of coffee, and watched some of the New Year's festivities on TV. I still can't tell who was a closer match to Death itself -- Dick Clark's Corpse or Hilary Duff's duff-less skeleton.
I was certain, however, that I had not had enough whiskey.
It's all a blur to me now!
happy 365 disapointments to you all.
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