ok, this damn day has got me down and depressed. i just hate new year’s eve with a passion. i hate the pressure to do something cool and to do it with someone cool. i hate that i don’t have anything cool to do or anyone to do it with. i hate that when i leave sister #3’s house tonight i will be the only one who has to face an empty house. i hate that there is nobody to kiss at midnight. i hate it all.
i always have.
i’m 31, that’s 31 new year’s eves. i’ve only ever, in my entire life been kissed at midnight once, and it was by a bisexual woman i worked at an AIDS project with, so i’m not even sure that counts.
in any event, in honor of st. paul westerberg’s birthday, i think we should stop this new year’s hoo-ha nonsense, and celebrate the paul way. . .get drunk by yourself and write beautiful stuff full of longing and heartache.
i think that’s what i’ll do.
ya know, if you were reeeeally hard up for something to do or some people to hang out with, i think i could give the location of a place to hang out… minus the bisexual women that work at AIDS projects, though.
I’ve spent a few New Year’s Eves alone, so I know partially what you mean. Maybe the flip side of the loneliness is the contemplation that “being alone” allows. If I was there tonight I’d kiss you right on the lips, first, for adding me to your good taste club, and second, because . . . well, just because. Besides, who needs reasons for kissing?
And I’m not even a bi-sexual woman.
Well, I’m thirty-*mumble* years old, and I’ve never done anything remotely cool on New Year’s Eve either. To me, New Year’s Eve just means I get to take an extra day off of work.
I suppose that’s reason enough to celebrate a little, isn’t it?
*toasts jodi’s health, gulps drink*