The John . . . Going On A Bit...

The Place: a bar
Name: The Void
Actual Fact: No one cares since it's the Void


I am now officially pledging the Fifth. In my case it should be the Sixth. I.e. THAT part in the universal law of Wine Drinkers Solitary And Anonymous that refers to the state of inebriation (i.e. units of alcohol) of the individual in question and in connection to that the inability to be held accountable for what was said and/or written in said state of inebriation.
SUCH a good thing that we are talking VOID here.

Alcohol makes you both naive and wise. (Really what it does is simply lower your inhibitions.) (Oh good, pointing out the obvious here.)
I believe this is why people tend to say that children and drunks speak the truth. (As above.)
As to speaking the truth - I honestly cannot say that I am or, IF I was, which?
Literary studies taught me, there is never only ONE truth. A complete and utter philistine would now utter something like: Makes you wonder just how much Shakespeare and the likes were drinking. Well, our beloved Mr. Pope, I am sure, was always anything but. A drunkard that is.

I am partial to the occasional drink. Especially on a New Year's Eve when there is nothing better to do and no one around. (May be turning into Bridget Jones. Must check for further signs.)
There is some kind of list of classic and highly appropriate things to do on this night in particular. Fancy dinners, friends galore, lavish parties, countdowns and toasts, and not forgetting auld acquaintance(s) and days of auld lang syne.
And you know what, this lady is in no mood to tick any of the boxes.
I love me some red wine, some sherry, too.
I shall dance and skip and gyrate and whirl like a dervish.
I may remember this and forget the other.
I may cry and laugh, joke and swear.
I shall be talking to myself a little. Aloud. Like me, myself and I were three different people.
In my mind I will be dancing with John Mayer in my kitchen. Slow dancing to some old Gershwin number.
I'd even pretend to have on a fabulous gown and my hair'd be sleek and simply wonderful.

In the end, all it ever really is is make believe.
The new year is the old year is the old is the old is the same old same old.
It's crushing. It is devastating. Nothing ever really changes. No one ever really changes. That is what is called the universal experience of being human. That is why, Mr. Mayer can wax poetic about the mundane and the easily forgotten and overlooked.
We carry on.
Regardless.
Whether we have learned anything or not.
It simply does not matter. Because the world does not stop turning just because we break a leg, a heart, a crown.
The world does not give a shit.
I wonder whether that is something to take into 2014.
To take into consideration at least.
At last!
Because, for sure, this lady has not in the past.

It is that kind of knowledge that eludes you for a long time and screws with you continually.

So make sure you got that down!

For posterity and all...