Anna took this picture at dive-bar karaoke.
We sang “Pump Up the Jam,” it is the longest song ever, and EMF’s “Unbelievable,” which we mangled. It was stellar, a night to remember, I can do things that are stupid but still scare me.
Christmas happened, draining, driving all over groundstorming North Dakota, thinking about Thailand and alternate realities. Joe brought back twin Buddhas,
once. Shit, little brother, how’d you get so big?
New Year’s was a riot, YouTubing 2010’s greatest hits, sixth-grade paparazzi pants on the ground, trololo double rainbow, we goan find you, bringing in the decade with the classic shouted countdown, with baby vuvuzelas and glints in eyes.
At the stroke of midnight, I popped champagne. I never did that before. It worked, just like the movies, just a bit on the floor, and like a million other Americans in Central Time, we googled “Auld Lang Syne” and still managed to butcher it, but we had a real piano, and someone who knew how to play it, and then we danced to Prince ’cause this is Minnefuckinapolis, and MGMT, Janelle Monáe and Beyoncé.
The winter takes my breath away, the dark, my want to do a damn thing but put on my Olympic sweatpants and sleep till spring.
Nonetheless, 2011, you are on notice. Behind the seen, I been getting sharp, see, the forest for the trees I been felling with a scalpel, building me a castle of a thousand perfect cuts and the bones of precious dead darlings.
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