H-NYE2U

December 31st, 2016
11:58 pm:
Peter farts.

 

January 1st, 2017
12:00am:
Peter says, in a false dismal sounding voice “happy new year” from the couch.
The stench of 2016 still lingers in the air.
I hope 2017 smells better soon.

Peter and I go for our last smokes of the 21st century.
Peter says “Tonight was perfect, exactly what I wanted for New Years Eve.”

I point out to him that he started 2017 by smelling a fart from last year.

 

January 1st, 2017
12:16am:
I’m sitting in my room laughing so hard I feel like I might have an asthma attack.
This year is gonna be hilarious.
It’s time for bed.

Advertisements

New Year//No Fear

I live in an interesting world.My car is broken and I feel so passive about it that I’m wondering if I should even bother to keep it. Maybe I’ll fix it and pass it on.

Yesterday, when walking to Jojo’s to get the house sitting, dog/cat/chicken run down, I ended up in a good old Canadian traffic stopper. Darcy, a local mechanical guru, saw me walking and stopped to offer a ride. We chatted on the roadside for a half hour about cars. He says to just call him when I’m free and we’ll see what’s wrong with my car.

When I got to Jojo’s, they handed me $120. It was confusing. I didn’t expect to get paid to watch Netflix, pet chickens and talk to a dog for 3 days.

Ally called me and needed help. Her and Rob are ill. Could I go to the cafe and finish refinishing the floors? She let me keep her car overnight.

I ended up working an hour shift at the pizza place. Another $15 and a free pizza.

When I brought the car back today, Ally demanded to pay me for my work. I tried to refuse, it was only 45 minutes. She gave me baby bell cheese, gluten free chocolate cake, $20 and a whole smoked salmon (it’s good until November 2022, no added preservatives. The amazing power of smoked meat!).

Tomorrow I’ll be 4 months sober.

I had a dream on Christmas night about getting totally boss hagged. I woke up the next day to find my room mate just shredded on the couch. When I returned home, 5 hours later, he hadn’t moved. I made him tea and Kraft Dinner. I gave him a gingerbread cookie I had made. I know all too well what a body destroying hang over feels like.

I never want to drink again.

Ever.

Even if I feel the draw towards it. The cold and clammy hand of a can of beer gripping for mine.
Fuck that shit.
It’s all a waste of time.
I need to remember that while I’m hanging out with PDad when he’s working at the liquor store. I need to remember my strength and resolve when I think about the dozen of failed quit smoking attempts I’ve crawled through the last few months (last year).

Soon, we’ll all be referring to 2016 as “last year”, as in “a time that’s passed”.

I’m going to think of it as “last year; as in the last year of my life that I did all this shit.”

The last year I ever drank. The last year I ever smoked. The last year of my life that I put up with abuse dynamics and bull shit. The last year that I ever let fear stop me from tearing down the cities in my mind.
2016, thank you for all the things you brought me. All the beauty and strength. All the love, compassion and kindness. For the gentle and soft souls who’ve touched me deeper than I yet understand.
Thank you for almost destroying me. Taking with you the lives of friends as your days passed. For stealing pieces of the ones I love and loved ones of those I care for. For taking parts of me with you and dragging them out over the rocks of your shorelines while I watch, injured and helpless trying to find strength.
Thank you for letting me dismantle my ideas of how things should be so I can move forward. Because there’s no where else to go but forward.
Thank you for almost being over.
2017, the best of both worlds. Let’s hold hands about it?