If this year should suddenly became animate, instead of a vessel full to the brim with disappointment, I would boldly approach it, take it by the scruff of the neck and just as boldly kick it out the door.
This year, I won’t be looking back on the past months with any sentimentality – which is unique, as Aubrey is such a petty little romantic – but rather it will be with a combination of horror, and amazement. As in, I am amazed I have had such a horrid time: Fate, Destiny, Luck – thank you for the subtle and bedizened chain you’ve woven me. I’ve worn it all year, and it is one frayed and tawdry necklace.
On December 31st, I will be on the Casino ballroom on Catalina Island.
As in previous years, I will be positioned beneath the Tiffany lights, below the netting holding an anthology of balloons, like a jostling rainbow of fish. At midnight the netting will open, and the party-goers will attack them: out of fun, out of savagery, out of a fear of inflatables…it’s hard to say.
But what I can say is that the balloon that is unlucky enough to find a spot beneath my heel will suddenly become a symbol of 2012. And I will then stamp on it until there is nothing left but some shreds of rubber and the merest whisper of helium.
And only then will I be ready to start again. And besides, the price of admission includes a half of champagne.
Shall we all begin together? In a suitable state of hopefulness and giddiness, I will fling open the door once again, and with any luck I will see your clever faces waiting, like a blogging, buoyant bouquet.
Happy, hopeful New Year!