Death is everywhere on New Year’s Eve. This is the time we choose to purify ourselves.
The death of time, the death of memories, the death of ideas.
Champagne, fireworks, masks. Look to the sky and think about the things that were taken from you last year. What you were given. The failure, the defeat, the struggle. The fervour and joy, the moments of bizarre kindness, the brief insights into the Kingdom of Love.
Meet yourself in the boardroom of your mind and bring your resolution with you. Yes, yes, yes. The resolution. What a great word. A strong word, a powerful word. It has a military feel to it, fitting the occasion.
It’s normal to want to kill a part of oneself during this time. Kill the smoker in you, the drinker, the restless poet screaming in traffic. It’s what you should do. Become a better person, they say. Become a better version of yourself. The best one possible. This is what they tell you. And to do this you need to kill yourself. You need to murder your own flawed character. The infinite limitations, vices and shortcomings that make you who you are. Yes. This is the mission. Execute yourself. Ruthlessly, spectacularly, ISIS-style.
The end of you is the beginning of you. It’s the exact same thing. Religion understands this. God understands Time.
When you have successfully executed the old and flawed version of what once was known as yourself, it’s time for incorporating desirable qualities into the carcass.
Your new ghost should be witty, fit for modern times. I can picture it on stage, pale and translucent, showering the audience with clever and progressive jokes about the end of the world. Yes, it’s the end of the liberal world and we need witty people more than ever. Once you’ve killed yourself I’m sure your 2017 phantom will have something witty to say about fascism. I’d really like to hear it. The platforms are there. Now it’s time to hear it. What’s your witty take on the spectacle that was 2016? I’ll retweet it and share it and write it on a celebrity grave, my ravishing jester!
Let’s see some irony in everyday life. There’s not nearly enough of it. Here’s an idea for your little zombie in the making, A Style Guide for the Confused and Recently Deceased Person. Get your Trump Fan Outfit on. The cap, the Trump 4 President t-shirt, the 501 Levis. Look at yourself. So fucking beautifully ironic! Haha! Now head to the next vegan restaurant. Go! Doesn’t matter a whole lot what you’re having. The vegan alt-right is here, passionate about tape recordings, border control and the environment. Place an order and sit down. Unleash your Macbook Air! Put on the headphones. Belle & Sebastian maybe? Radiohead will work as well, Sufjan Stevens a fine option also. Draw a bit in your Moleskine while you wait. Draw something meaningless but weird. Don’t think about God and Time and Love.
Now they bring you the food. Ask for mercy, just like they did in ancient times.
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