Two thousand eleven, my whole body feels electrified with a sort of reminiscent sleepiness. I'm quiet, but I'm not concerned. My tedious work remains as so, and though it's saturday... I'm still ill with a cold, a bit worse today from the addition of a hangover and the dehydration alcohol is commonly known for. Though I don't quite remember much of my new years eve, I seemed to have captured quite a bit of it on the camera my father gave me for christimas.




At midnight, we wrote things that we wanted to see "burn" from 2010 on paper bags. Mine consisted of a mere six words, two as a statement and three as a collective statement. "Negativity" "regret" "disregard for family." With a deeply alcoholically intoxicated breathe, I blew into the bag and wrapped the opening shut. Seconds later, I watched that motherfucker burn until the remnants of ashes scattered and blew in the wind with the ashes from the bags of others. My boyfriend and my second father fired shots into the night air at noone, emptied guns to the dissatisfaction of curious listeners near by. Two hours of a rainy ride home, scavenging for food and joints, and putting my blacked-out soulmate to bed. Then New years eve was over. I'd closed a whole chapter of my life. 365 days down, however many more to go... I know I have to optimistic as I can be about them.