Naqoyqatsi

It’s two in the morning. It’s two days after my birthday. A very close friend has just come home, only to leave again a few hours hence, and I’ll not see him for so very long once he does. I don’t know about my mood. Call it pensive, if you call it anything, for I’m full of thoughts at the moment.

And now, at least, we know where this began.

It’s enough to bring a man to his knees; it’s enough to drive him mad. The thought, the very idea of something so vile being allowed to purport itself, to argue its case before the world, as it would appear. It’s enough to make a man question God.

- “The multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon him.” -

It’s been a while since we’ve done this. Seasons come and gone, summer to winter and back again, light to dark to light and so on, and here we are arrived. Like a crooner stepping up to the microphone, turn on the fucking spotlights, please.

I fear this has gotten off track, gone from sentiment to cynical, and I apologize. Let’s try this again.

Here we are, then. New, and refreshed. And here’s to staying positive. Here’s to a new year and a new birthday both having passed. Here’s to being direct. Here’s to confident. Here’s to coincidence, and the wonderful places it places us in. Here’s to me. Here’s to you, for being so fucking wonderful, all of you. Here’s to randomness. Here’s to stopping strangers on the street, telling them they’re beautiful, and getting their number. Here’s to life, no matter how you live it. Here’s to spending less time wondering what others think about you, and just being you, and finding out what you think about you. Here’s to finding out that people like that more than anything. Here’s to the show, for it must go on.

The curtains are dropping. Hold your breath. And prepare yourself. If the last year was any indicator, you’re about to have your fucking breath taken away.