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Almost Weekly #1

January 1, 2007

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The New Year – Death Cab For Cutie

Fizzling pop in a two-pace dissection of pomp and circumstance. And fireworks. I’m on top of Alexandra Palace, and suddenly words just melt into the background. Looking out accross South East London, higher than anything I can see except surrounding trees and the Exhibition Centre behind me. Things slow down, the crump of fireworks near and distant a constant rumble. Calanders begin to change, and what was a sporadic lightshow of premature revellers becomes London On Fire. I feel like I could sit here forever. Flashes can be seen for miles and behind the tree-line, to the West, the centre of London is an indistinct white flash that changes the landscape.I start, somewhat inexplicably, laughing. In my head I’m sometime else, and the city’s falling to ruin. Slowly torn apart by sound and fury every brick turns to dust and the lights are creeping closer. I can believe I’m stood on top of the end of the world and it’s so pretty that I don’t care. Millions of people below feel exactly the same, all stopping for a few minutes. Nobody, for now, is thinking about the future, just about the moment.

And when it all slows to a stop nothing will have changed. You will feel exactly the same as you did before, promising yourself not to make the mistakes you couldn’t see coming, to take more of the opportunities you squandered, and to leave in last year those pieces of the puzzle you tore and stained, only to do exactly the same thing by the time the Earth crosses this patch of space again. But that’s okay. Because, when this pretty light show fades, all that has changed is a number, and with it the chance not to make mistakes, not to squander opportunities and not to be trapped by what you don’t like of yourself. Just like every other day.

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