2002-01-02 - 11:07 p.m.
�When everything you own is lost�and every friendship has its cost�your rolling stone has gathered moss��
Someone recently told me that whatever you�re doing at midnight on New Year�s Eve provides a theme for the rest of the year, in which case, I can look forward to being cried on by semi-psychotic unsavoury acquaintances whilst struggling to keep down tequila shots. Well, whoopeeee shit. Actually, it�s probably not too wild a prediction (as likely as all yesterday�s, at least). And it did mean that I didn�t have to just stand there as the countdown ended, feeling like the world�s biggest loser whilst everyone else hugged the loves of their life. Well, not for too long, anyway.
The glorious dawning radiance of 2002 saw my waking up on a couch feeling like something that had just negotiated the digestive system of a small cow. Meanwhile, the Euro was introduced on the continent, which means that you can now get ripped off by foreign cab drivers without having to change currency. The UK has, of course, declined, because half the country mistakenly equates having the likeness of an outdated monarch on our notes as having something to do with �identity�. Frankly, I�d be happy to have Gwyneth Paltrow on our notes as long as they were still accepted at high street booze emporia.
�And all your clouds cover the sun�and all your karma has undone�remember you�re my number one��
Another theory abounding in some of the less salubrious drinking spots in town is that palindromic years are, based on no readily apparent rationale, always lucky. I�m happy to cling blindly to this random assumption, though 1991 was my first year at university and possibly the most romantically frustrating time of my entire life so far. Not to mention a year when any discernable hairstyle seemingly evaded me. So let�s pray for no repeat performances, despite that fact it would probably make for a more entertaining read.
I�ve noticed that there are some unhappy people around at the moment. I wouldn�t presume to start spouting clich�d advice or anything. Just that, I know from the barely-literate twaddle contained in these pages, my life appears to be one big carefree sarcastic comment. But this year, despite having had some amazing times whilst getting to meet some truly ace and special and unforgettable people (mostly some darling fellow diary writers), has had its share of fuck-ups and frustrations and thoroughly depressing days. And they�re unavoidable, but that just means there�s even more reason to make this year extraordinary. You�re just all too pant-wettingly gorgeous not to. Here�s to it.
�Hey. You�re my guiding star. I do know who you are. You�re my guiding star.�
