10 hours of 2007 left, and I'm not at all sure what I'm doing, or what anything means anymore.
I'm tired and achey, I'm currently existing on a 12-hour sleep to 12-hour vaguely awake ratio, and my New Year's knees-up options are speedily vanishing from view like an attractive girl I've just said hello to in a nightclub. I had the option to spend tonight at Hippy Dave's gaff but I a) never got round to confirming this with him and b) have a feeling he's buggered off to another part of the country anyway, so his house would be locked and empty if I did actually make it down there.
Furthermore, Large Northern Flatmate is going for a meal with his ladyfriend tonight.
Other chums are skiing in France.
Others still are at said houseparty with Hippy Dave, somewhere not in London.
I am considering not going out at all, and seeing in the New Year at home, alone, and in front of the TV. After all, that's pretty much all I've done for the last few weeks anyway.
I shouldn't care. New Year's Eves are absolutely shit anyway, an overrated excuse for a time-specific pissup that transcends age, race, religion and class, yet always seems to disappoint. In an effort to have the Best New Year's Eve ever, I've hung out in London ~ Utter shit; I felt bad for tourists who assume that our capital caters for hordes of party animals when in actual fact the powers-that-be like to dissuade anyone from doing anything, when coppers out in force resent having to deal with millions of drunks, and restaurants, bars and clubs charge whatever the fuck they like.
Edinburgh was more interesting. They've somehow managed to rebrand the whole affair as Hogmanay and make out they invented the whole fucking concept. As a result, Princes Street becomes a carnival of merrymaking and mass-snogging, or at least did about ten years ago. When I travelled up there two years back, the whole street became ticket only and lacked the spontaneity and excitement of my first visit. It also seemed to contain a large number of Scottish Chavs (Neds, I believe they're called), wearing nought but a t-shirt and jeans and trying to look blasé and indifferent as they casually caught hypothermia.
New York was better. I went during the 1998-99 New Year, on a boat somewhere. There was a free bar all night and I was amused to note that I seemed to be the only person there taking full advantage of that. I also remember thinking that it was far colder than Edinburgh had been. In fact, Christmas in New York is fucking freezing.
Other New Year's have been spent at friend's houses, or else curled up in a foetal position under a table, crying and gently rocking myself to sleep.
And so, once I work out in what pathetic, drunken manner I am to see in another cruel, useless, uneventful New Year, I can embark on my resolutions, my pointless and frequently similar recommendations for yet another 12-month waste of time.
So here we go...
Resolutions ~ 2007 Vs. 2008
1) ~ (2007) Quit smoking
1) ~ (2008) Quit smoking
2) ~ (2007) Cycling, Swim, Exercise, Diet. Consider joining a gym.
2) ~ (2008) Cycling, Swim, Exercise, Diet. Consider joining a gym.
3) ~ (2007) Quit my job for a better paid, more creative career.
3) ~ (2008) Quit my job for a better paid, more creative career.
4) ~ (2007) Finish creative endeavours, and do something with them.
4) ~ (2008) Continue with creative endeavours, and do something with them.
5) ~ (2007) Have sex
5) ~ (2008) Have sex
6) ~ (2007) Get work in New York.
6) ~ (2008) Buy a house in London, or as near to London without bankrupting myself.
7) ~ (2007) Be a less regretful and guilty whinging bastard, and become a more happy and positive whinging bastard.
7) ~ (2008) Just do Numbers 1-6 and that'll be more than enough for me.
So here's to 2008. Quite frankly, if I can lose some weight and stop smoking, it will have surpassed all 2007 at a stroke.
In fact, it will have surpassed my entire existence on this spinning fucking orb of pain.