Happy New Year, Whitechapel. It's the third New Year for FREAKANGELS, I think (started in March), but the fourth for everyone that's been here in the forums from the beginning.
Happy New Year to all of Whitechapel from a roof in Delhi. @snowfireangel and I refuse to celebrate in the city, and are being serenaded with stories from drunken Australians who aren't speaking to us directly.
There were fireworks. When they finished I looked down and watched the streets. Rooftops are captivating in shadows, defined by fluttering laundry and the occasional neon sign or reflected street light. There are no stars through fog and smog and the night is as black as anything from up here.
May your holiday celebrations bring you joy and the new year begin with a good giggle.
This has been one of those long years. Not as long as the astonishing 1989, or the dismal 1986, but long. I figure 437 days.
I hope the new year brings everyone success and joy, except certain political figures and pundits. I can think of no better way to start 2011 than reading about Glen Beck being arrested after a drunken naked tear through a petting zoo.
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."