One Day I'll Fail To Breathe, And All You'll Have Is Memories
So tomorrow I brave the treacherous battlefield of PDX, and hopefully return safe-and-sound at Denver International in the early afternoon with just enough time to bring in the New Year. 2007 seems like an exciting year already - dreams and aspirations fueling my perseverance and determination. The endless roads of where my life could head in the next few months is almost too much - "it's enough to make a man explode". I just have to take a deep breath, keep my eyes open, and remember to go with the Hoppus. Oh yes, 2006. You were quite the comedian.
Since I will probably either be too tired or far too deep into the celebrations tomorrow night, I will be dedicating this double feature of a blog to old man Time and anyone who survived this last chaotic year. Imagine it now: The marquee reads "ONE NIGHT ONLY" and spotlights etch across the starry sky. Thousands upon thousands flock to the velvet red carpet to reserve their seat for the greatest show of the next year: 2007! The two-thousandth and seventh year since somebody claimed a beatific infant was brought into the world aside three wise men and an assortment of barnyard animals! This calls for some sort of celebration! We've created a holiday and stolen a calendar system from the Romans! The world is blessed!
As joking aside, the lights lower and the curtain goes up on the events of your past year. A movie clip montage from the Academy Awards of the good, bad, and terribly anarchistic moments of the past year! Mine would display as follows - using a simple list and some generic keywords:
Champagne from a paper cup, white lights over bare branches, letters from a long lost love, a mix tape and hot tea on my bedroom floor, writing beginnings but never endings, a black hat and a trip to Wendy's, linguine and passion, Topper Revue and 'Kings Of The Land Of Crunk', a state wide trip fueled by Christopher Walken and The Alan Sparhawk Project, the final days of Olions, so freed the chains of Los Alamos High School, my imminent defeat, traveling across the country, Kings at Ian's, Panic! At The Phix, playing on a run down guitar at the "Hot Monkey Love Cafe", drunk concert goers and cries of 'Maaaarrrrrbbbbbllllleeeee....', tapioca balls and strange looks, Happy Hollow and too much Katamari, Friday The 13th for the Nintendo Entertainment System, Godspeed records and doorbells on back doors, and an exhausting trip...
The Diner and the sounds of 'socials' from Miss Casey, letting go, falling victim to some sick cosmic game, a gigantic step forward into Colorado, elusive Comcast buildings and Byron, Cursive live, drunken Uno and resulting delirium, Patrick Swayze, multiple coats, Boulder and Marb at 5 AM, stuck in the snow, a fateful day, may Kasher be with you, the degradation of my sanity, Jean's tattoo, the Plus 44 show, long days and some Spicy Pickle, meeting the one-and-only Lexi, a 'sexy party', Regina Spektor and my family in Oregon, and then...
With an epic crash of cymbals, the music cuts short. And then? And then what? What will I find in this next day? What will I experience when I wake up and go on with my life as I have been doing for the last three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? Everything. Nothing has been left out. I will watch the New Year come and go with the same sweet nostalgia - the same blinding sparklers - and the same pop of champagne. This 'new beginning' will undoubtedly...begin. Just like planned. Time will continue it's endless march. I will not be different, nor the same come midnight tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will know that much more about the world. Myself. My life. I will know that much more about the people around me - the frivolities and drunken inconsistencies aside. I will know that much more about how I feel about...everything. How I feel about these new songs....how I feel about Thea...how I feel about being able to always start a Chapter One but never, ever finish.
This must be it. Welcome to the New Year.
Since I will probably either be too tired or far too deep into the celebrations tomorrow night, I will be dedicating this double feature of a blog to old man Time and anyone who survived this last chaotic year. Imagine it now: The marquee reads "ONE NIGHT ONLY" and spotlights etch across the starry sky. Thousands upon thousands flock to the velvet red carpet to reserve their seat for the greatest show of the next year: 2007! The two-thousandth and seventh year since somebody claimed a beatific infant was brought into the world aside three wise men and an assortment of barnyard animals! This calls for some sort of celebration! We've created a holiday and stolen a calendar system from the Romans! The world is blessed!
As joking aside, the lights lower and the curtain goes up on the events of your past year. A movie clip montage from the Academy Awards of the good, bad, and terribly anarchistic moments of the past year! Mine would display as follows - using a simple list and some generic keywords:
Champagne from a paper cup, white lights over bare branches, letters from a long lost love, a mix tape and hot tea on my bedroom floor, writing beginnings but never endings, a black hat and a trip to Wendy's, linguine and passion, Topper Revue and 'Kings Of The Land Of Crunk', a state wide trip fueled by Christopher Walken and The Alan Sparhawk Project, the final days of Olions, so freed the chains of Los Alamos High School, my imminent defeat, traveling across the country, Kings at Ian's, Panic! At The Phix, playing on a run down guitar at the "Hot Monkey Love Cafe", drunk concert goers and cries of 'Maaaarrrrrbbbbbllllleeeee....', tapioca balls and strange looks, Happy Hollow and too much Katamari, Friday The 13th for the Nintendo Entertainment System, Godspeed records and doorbells on back doors, and an exhausting trip...
The Diner and the sounds of 'socials' from Miss Casey, letting go, falling victim to some sick cosmic game, a gigantic step forward into Colorado, elusive Comcast buildings and Byron, Cursive live, drunken Uno and resulting delirium, Patrick Swayze, multiple coats, Boulder and Marb at 5 AM, stuck in the snow, a fateful day, may Kasher be with you, the degradation of my sanity, Jean's tattoo, the Plus 44 show, long days and some Spicy Pickle, meeting the one-and-only Lexi, a 'sexy party', Regina Spektor and my family in Oregon, and then...
With an epic crash of cymbals, the music cuts short. And then? And then what? What will I find in this next day? What will I experience when I wake up and go on with my life as I have been doing for the last three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? Everything. Nothing has been left out. I will watch the New Year come and go with the same sweet nostalgia - the same blinding sparklers - and the same pop of champagne. This 'new beginning' will undoubtedly...begin. Just like planned. Time will continue it's endless march. I will not be different, nor the same come midnight tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will know that much more about the world. Myself. My life. I will know that much more about the people around me - the frivolities and drunken inconsistencies aside. I will know that much more about how I feel about...everything. How I feel about these new songs....how I feel about Thea...how I feel about being able to always start a Chapter One but never, ever finish.
This must be it. Welcome to the New Year.
I'm so glad my hot bod made it to your list of the year's notable events. I think I may have to steal a page from your book tomorrow and do something similar to this on my own journal.