To 2009

Five years ago I composed a story entitled "To Green." It was to be published in The Paris Review until they asked me to remove the obscenities. I refused. It was a tale of drunkenness and hope and the relationship between the two; namely, how one is only hopeful whilst one is drunk.

Or was it about Academia and leprechauns? I do not recall.

Regardless, 2008 was a shithole. Let us make 2009 an emergence from said shithole. Let us revel in the spirit of adventure but let us not lose our dignity.

Reginald Hardcourt rang in the New Year pissing in a pint glass because the loo was occupied by a vomiting girl. I told him to see a whore because they are professionals. But in his modern greed he opted for an amateur he met on the internet. He thought it free but he left his 15-year-old single-malt when he fled.

To scotch? No! To Green! Intoxicating and expensive. Let us drink our savings and legacies away.

I spent my New Year's Eve high, alone, and listening to my favourite tunes. Multiple women contacted me, but I took comfort being in the eye of the hurricane, thinking, like John Lennon before me (before worrying about censors), Isn't it good, knowing she would? And for free!

A bonus: I awoke without a hangover.

To 2009! Let us emerge and fight the forces of entropy. Let us become something better. I shall make an effort.

Thank-you for reading, Dear Reader. I apologize for being so cerebral lately.

Yours,

Nigel Tewksbury