Happy New Year!
Posted: 30 Dec 2015, 21:25
December 31st 2015/January 1st 2016
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops and it is 1989. This is my first New Years. I am 141 days old. My sister is three years old and is sleeping soundly. My mother is with some man she met at the bar earlier that night. They are making out on the couch. I am in my crib nearby. My cries are not a deterrent to my mother or her chosen wallet.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1990. I have had my first uncelebrated birthday and we are in the same living room my mother Christened last year in. My sister is sleeping and I am nestled in her arms on the couch. My mother is upstairs with a new man Christening the New Year. This union would have produced a brother or sister had she not miscarried due to a drug overdose three months later in March.. I should be the second of 5. Instead my sister and I are the only children birthed by our mother.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1991. Everything nationwide has gotten more expensive by the advent of the GST, a sales tax on goods and services nationwide. The rate is supposedly 7% but it is not. It’s cumulative with the existing PST, the Provincial sales tax levied on goods and services by each Province across the country. I am only two and a half and this means nothing to me. It means something to the man my mother has deigned to allow into our house this New Year’s Eve.I would have liked this one. He seems very nice. My mother ends up losing him because he can’t watch her spiral into an alcohol induced depression over the course of the next six months.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1992. It is a quiet evening with a babysitter. My mother is out at a bar. She doesn’t return home for three days. When she does it is with minor facial lacerations and severe contusions on her face and torso. She has been beaten and raped. my younger brother or sister from the nice guy has been removed from her womb. He never knew she was pregnant. To my knowledge, he still does not know he was almost a father
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1993. Czechoslovakia splits into two new countries, the Czech Republic and Slovakia. As the countries are breaking up, my mother is hooking up with the ********. They will marry in a few short weeks and the already bleak future of my family becomes a downward spiral into Hell. My sister and I sleep in each other’s arms while our lives are, unbeknownst to us, shattered.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1994. NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement is created. It binds the U.S., Canada and Mexico together in the largest trading bloc in the world. I am five years old. Jane is eight. This is the first time the ******** touches her. My mother isn’t aware of this yet. Perhaps back then she would have been strong enough to send him on his way. Perhaps not. She didn’t know. This is the year that Jane began being home schooled. I would begin the following year. The ******** didn’t want us among other kids. He told my mother that it was so we wouldn’t get screwed up. She believed him.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is Y2K. There is widespread panic over the Millennium Bug. It’s unwarranted. There is no meltdown. We aren’t plunged into the Dark Ages part 2. The world goes on. Our abuse goes on. My mother knows by this point. She is terrified of the ******** by now though. The ******** has steak, extra rare with mashed potatoes and gravy. Peas and carrots. Dinner rolls. Two rolls for him. He washes it down with a red red wine. Mom, Jane and I have bologna sandwiches. The same thing we had for lunch. We wash it down with water. There wasn’t enough money for us all to have steak. This “tradition” continues for the next 15 years.
This is not my favorite holiday. The Ball begins it’s descent that will kill the Two thousand and fifteenth year of Our Lord. As with the past few years we have people arguing over Christianity or Islam being evil or not. If it should be okay for queers to marry. If America is the Devil and if Canada will survive this new invasion of foreign invaders. They worry over refugees having more funding and rights than citizens. We have pseudo-intellectual armchair politicians tell each other how to solve the world’s problems. They will get up the next day and either got to their menial jobs and contribute nothing really of any worth to the world or they will sit at home collecting their welfare checks and contribute nothing really of any worth to the world.
As with every NYE, I am with my sister. She holds a glass in one hand, I hold one in mine. In her glass, my blood. In my glass, her blood. The countdown begins. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 2016. We kiss, clink glasses, lean over and imbibe the purest of essences we can of the other. This will be our year. This New Year, fraught with intrigue, with danger, with the fear of the unknown, the supernatural, will finally bring us a new life. One where we are no longer the victims of others. One where we will truly be happy.
The snowy covering of Harper Rock glistens, it’s purity radiant under street lamps that cast a golden colored glow over everything they illuminate. Golden. This year will be golden.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops and it is 1989. This is my first New Years. I am 141 days old. My sister is three years old and is sleeping soundly. My mother is with some man she met at the bar earlier that night. They are making out on the couch. I am in my crib nearby. My cries are not a deterrent to my mother or her chosen wallet.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1990. I have had my first uncelebrated birthday and we are in the same living room my mother Christened last year in. My sister is sleeping and I am nestled in her arms on the couch. My mother is upstairs with a new man Christening the New Year. This union would have produced a brother or sister had she not miscarried due to a drug overdose three months later in March.. I should be the second of 5. Instead my sister and I are the only children birthed by our mother.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1991. Everything nationwide has gotten more expensive by the advent of the GST, a sales tax on goods and services nationwide. The rate is supposedly 7% but it is not. It’s cumulative with the existing PST, the Provincial sales tax levied on goods and services by each Province across the country. I am only two and a half and this means nothing to me. It means something to the man my mother has deigned to allow into our house this New Year’s Eve.I would have liked this one. He seems very nice. My mother ends up losing him because he can’t watch her spiral into an alcohol induced depression over the course of the next six months.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1992. It is a quiet evening with a babysitter. My mother is out at a bar. She doesn’t return home for three days. When she does it is with minor facial lacerations and severe contusions on her face and torso. She has been beaten and raped. my younger brother or sister from the nice guy has been removed from her womb. He never knew she was pregnant. To my knowledge, he still does not know he was almost a father
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1993. Czechoslovakia splits into two new countries, the Czech Republic and Slovakia. As the countries are breaking up, my mother is hooking up with the ********. They will marry in a few short weeks and the already bleak future of my family becomes a downward spiral into Hell. My sister and I sleep in each other’s arms while our lives are, unbeknownst to us, shattered.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 1994. NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement is created. It binds the U.S., Canada and Mexico together in the largest trading bloc in the world. I am five years old. Jane is eight. This is the first time the ******** touches her. My mother isn’t aware of this yet. Perhaps back then she would have been strong enough to send him on his way. Perhaps not. She didn’t know. This is the year that Jane began being home schooled. I would begin the following year. The ******** didn’t want us among other kids. He told my mother that it was so we wouldn’t get screwed up. She believed him.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is Y2K. There is widespread panic over the Millennium Bug. It’s unwarranted. There is no meltdown. We aren’t plunged into the Dark Ages part 2. The world goes on. Our abuse goes on. My mother knows by this point. She is terrified of the ******** by now though. The ******** has steak, extra rare with mashed potatoes and gravy. Peas and carrots. Dinner rolls. Two rolls for him. He washes it down with a red red wine. Mom, Jane and I have bologna sandwiches. The same thing we had for lunch. We wash it down with water. There wasn’t enough money for us all to have steak. This “tradition” continues for the next 15 years.
This is not my favorite holiday. The Ball begins it’s descent that will kill the Two thousand and fifteenth year of Our Lord. As with the past few years we have people arguing over Christianity or Islam being evil or not. If it should be okay for queers to marry. If America is the Devil and if Canada will survive this new invasion of foreign invaders. They worry over refugees having more funding and rights than citizens. We have pseudo-intellectual armchair politicians tell each other how to solve the world’s problems. They will get up the next day and either got to their menial jobs and contribute nothing really of any worth to the world or they will sit at home collecting their welfare checks and contribute nothing really of any worth to the world.
As with every NYE, I am with my sister. She holds a glass in one hand, I hold one in mine. In her glass, my blood. In my glass, her blood. The countdown begins. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! The Ball drops, the crowds scream, people kiss, glasses clink and it is 2016. We kiss, clink glasses, lean over and imbibe the purest of essences we can of the other. This will be our year. This New Year, fraught with intrigue, with danger, with the fear of the unknown, the supernatural, will finally bring us a new life. One where we are no longer the victims of others. One where we will truly be happy.
The snowy covering of Harper Rock glistens, it’s purity radiant under street lamps that cast a golden colored glow over everything they illuminate. Golden. This year will be golden.