Week something: NYE 2006

I wasn't in Sydney this year and kind of missed the spectacle of the coathanger ejaculating squillions of dollars of taxpayers' money at midnight, but I dealt with it by gazing longingly up at the one star visible through Bangkok's smog and softly humming 'Somewhere, Out There' to myself.

Two thousand and sex.

So how the fuck was your NYE? Judging from the messages I got from people, things in sydney town reached a substantial level of cheer. Thanks for those txts, too. I had a moment of reflection here in BKK when they started coming through. Then I got pissed and forgot all about even having friends.

The whole thing started with dinner at a work person's place. Which is cool, because I'm only new here and why should anyone really care if I see in the new year at home watching I, Robot on HBO and drinking Thai whiskey out of a coffee mug? So one of the guys from work invited a bunch of us to his and his girlfriend's apartment for a Danishesque dinner (because he's Danish).

It was a motley bunch of people: the company's main dude Bo; his missus; their kid; one talkative Italian pet food exporter/fashion designer; one short, quite possibly mute Italian man; one Aussie expat from the northern beaches (who'd 'lived overseas for, oh man, ever now' and had like six businesses or whatever); and Roger and me (yes, that's a Michael Moore film).

After eating half the cheese platter and drinking half the champagne, I retired to the balcony to have my moment and stare at my phone and the star with yearning. Before I got too misty-eyed, we were off to Q Bar.

Q Bar was good. I don't remember much about the music or whatever, but it went pretty fast. I suspect someone spiked my absinthe jello shots with alcohol or something, so when midnight rocked around and glasses were raised and the countdown got to 'two...one... yaaaaay' and the question of who to pash reared its head, I found myself: a) turning into a pumpkin; b) taking the red pill and finding out how far down the rabbit hole went; or, c) locking lips with another absinthe jello shot. I'm happy to go with any of these.

After Q Bar, certain people of the group went on a mission for some chemical romance. I tagged along just for fun, of course. (I know, I know they'll cut our hands off and hang us and lock us away for six million years in a little box with rats and broken glass and all that - give me a lecture when I get back home.) Anyway, the mission lead us to a club, conveniently just around the corner from my apartment, called Narcissus. Which I've just realise would be called Narcs, for short, which is rather an apt name.

After about an hour of trying to spot the pharmacist in this place, which was teeming teeeeming with thais and falangs, thousands of them, I was feeling the edge of reason creep in, in other words, I was sobering/straightening up and feeling edgy and annoyed by all the sweating people gurning all over me. Luckily, only about another 45 minutes passed before we hit pay dirt and scampered out of the place in a kind of 'fuck this place' fashion.

The rest is pretty typical of NYEs, without the burden of Field Day hanging over my head. Sitting around, talking shit, drinking, smoking, talking shit and attempting to make convincing resolutions.

Mine?

1) see more world
2) perfect look of doe-eyed semi-vacuous innocence
3) do my job/s with feeling
4) waste time effectively
5) eat more greens

Happy New Year, friends. I did miss you.

xx