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Posts Tagged ‘New Year’s Day’

About this time last year, I was going Full Dark Gothic on ringing (or, more accurately, “wringing”) out the old year. 2016 was a tough year for us here at Chez G, filled with deaths and troubles and disappointments galore, and though we survived it, we didn’t always manage to do it with style.

2017 has been difficult, too, with the wholesale breakdown of norms on both personal and global stages, but while difficult—incredibly so, at times—it wasn’t as painful as 2016. So, while I don’t feel particularly hopeful about what’s coming after 2017, I don’t feel as bloodied as I did coming into it. As a result, this holiday season has been, for us, pretty good.

For all of you, I hope your holidays have been peaceful, fun, and filled with love.

In the new year, let’s try to be grateful for the little things that brighten our days, like that new pair of warm winter socks or that bowl of homemade soup or the sound of rain or the smell of a loved one’s hair or the way your dog greets you when you come home.

Let’s try to remember that the person on the other side of the argument is not a demon, but a person like us in many ways, with many of the same concerns and challenges, and strive to discover that common ground that we know lies between us.

Let’s try to counter the chaos with kindness, the anger with empathy, the fear with understanding, the pain with love.

Let’s try to be good, to ourselves, and to each other.

Thank you all for taking time out of your busy lives to read my words, this past year. I hope you all stick around for what’s next.

Best,

k

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Femme VoiléeI did not wind the clocks this month. They tick down to silence, measuring out the year’s last hours with ponderous chimes.

This New Year’s Eve, the house will be quiet.

No television. No dropping ball. No music. No crowds.

No friends. No crackling fire. No pop of effervescent wine. No clink of crystal. Not even the ticking of a clock.

All will be silent, and I will sit on the stoop in the frost-rimed dark beneath the moonless sky and will wait.

Listening.

I want to hear it, you see, and want no other sound to interfere.

I want to hear this obscene alliance of Time and Death, this year that has gorged itself on family, friends, and icons, that has snuffed out lights of culture, killed dreams, thwarted hope, I want to hear it die.

As it lays before me, I will kneel at its side. I will lean into its abattoir scent, my ear close to its gasping mouth. I will hear as it exhales its final breath into the void.

And if it does not come, if at that silent stroke of twelve this baleful year somehow breathes on, then as I ring in the New Year, I shall wring out the old, my hands around its throat.

This year shall end, if I have to do it myself.

k

Typewriter

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Gossamer WheelYesterday, New Year’s Day, was Global Hangover Day.

It was also Global Magical Thinking Day.

Call me a cynic, but there is nothing special about New Year’s Day. It has no potency, no power. It signifies nothing of interest in the physical world, marks neither solstice or equinox, time to sow or time to reap. (more…)

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