It's about 6:20 on Sunday and this is the official start of a new year. There seems a lot of hullabaloo about the transition but where as before I didn't like New Years Eve and tried best in all my wannabe punk post adolescent fury to hate it, I kind of liked it this year. It was hard on me physically but I did actually make it to about 12:15 before fatigue set in and 12:56 before I gave up and went to bed. It's not the weight of the new year or all the dreams and hopes that are bundled up and sadly weighted on this new entity's shoulders that I am thinking about. There were moments as a child I would wake up in the middle of the night and watch car lights come through the square box of my window and slowly dash across the ceiling. Unable to go to sleep I would gaze at the red glowing numbers of the clock and wait until it turned to the next minute. And wait. And wait. And it turned. And I said, there, I did it.

That's what I am thinking this morning. Billions of tiny little beings, in Delhi, Rome, in small warm rooms in Bloomington Illinois in towns in England in the cold open air of Kashmir, everyone is staring at the clock. Intently.

Wait
Wait

There. We did it.
Like children.
Collectively we watch the clock.
One. Two. Three. (hold breath)
(wait)
Go.

I did it.
I am here.
Again.

Fade to black.

Wake up.



I am going back to sleep.