late night inspiration?
gee. this has been long overdue.
why do i have a feeling that my usual chronicles of the last and the first day of the year will be even more depressing that they usually are this year?
i've wrote that on my moleskine some days ago. for those who do not know: some years ago i was alone in the end of the year and, as i was walking by the river (not in lisbon; i was not living there yet) with my notebook and a pen. december 31st, gray day, cold as hell, and i was out there alone, feeling completely blue. had my notebook and a red-ink pen with me. naturally, i sat down and wrote. wrote about that day, and the days before, and about how silly was the year that was about to be over. tried to feel excited for it to be over - i really did - but failed, and failed miserably. wrote a sad bunch of words, full of anger and hatred and frustration and sorrow. especially sorrow, since it's the only feeling that truly lasts within me. night came, went home and had the usual family party. weee. i was the epitome of happiness. returned to the riverside in the following day, in the first day of the year. sat in the same spot, with the same notebook and the same pen. and wrote again, and sorrowful again.
and it became an habit, you know, of starting to write something in the last day of the year only to finish it in the first day of the next year. did it every year after that, except for the last new year's eve - i was too drunk and too merry to think, let alone to write. but i will surely do it again this year (and the next). and that's my bet: it will be more depressing than ever before.
it has to.