I am an expert in avoiding stuff, specializing in herds of people. If they are intoxicated and armed with fireworks, you get the hell out as far away as possible, before the yearly cycle of meaningless rituals escalates into fullblown mass psychosis, marking the end and beginning of their circular timeline. Spiraling around themselves cluelessly, flushed down the evolutionary lavatory along with their own bullshit. Goldfish without memories, circling the very same route of failure annually. I feel fantastic, might even start laughing uncontrollably and look like I'm participating. Mostly because I imagine their round mouths opening and closing in search of content, only producing bubbles from too many bottles of cheap sparkling wine. I'm the kid at the carnival who won the dart contest. Effortlessly I shot down every single thing anyone ever tried to tell me about life. My prize is this plastic bag of helpless little fishies, now recklessly swinging in my hand. I'm releasing them all in the fountain in the town square, together with a bottle of bubblebath. I'm generously giving them a surprise foam party, that's gotta be good karma for the new year!
