High ’05

New Year. Wow. Thrilling.
Last night, maybe, it seemed to be. Thrilling, that is. Amid the hootin’ ‘n’ hollerin’ and general, all-around hilarity and hoopla, and in your boozy haze and druggy daze or however you altered yourself to ensure fun fun fun, well, the prospect of a new year seemed mighty marvelous, didn’t it. But now, nearly 24 hours later, you’re still recuperating from the festivity, and already you’ve fucked up on those resolutions you labored over and swore you’d keep this year, damn it, and you’ve already eaten the cookies you said you wouldn’t eat and already said FUCK at least 50 times even though you resolved to replace it with a respectable FRIG and tomorrow you’re not going to the gym anyway.
And the world still looks like 2004 and tastes like 2004, and nothing really has changed. It looks like another ordinary errand-running Saturday, and the skies are not all of a sudden a different color and your job doesn’t all of a sudden not suck and you’re not thinner or prettier or any better liked than you were in 2004. In fact, the sky’s just as gray, your job still blows, and you’re fatter and uglier than ever and fewer people probably like you today after how you acted last night. And despite all the resolutions you made not to worry about your own problems when oh my god, there are people in the world who are suffering indignities and tsunamis you can’t even begin to imagine, well, underneath it all you’re still the same old you and really, nothing’s changed.
Oh, and, uh, happy new year ‘n’ all.