My Tangerine Year

I’ve had eight days. A suitable period with which to look back upon 2008 with some manner of perspective. Sure, it’s not the perspective I’ll have in 20 years, but there’s enough breadth between me and 21c’s 8th birthday that I can look back on it and write about it. Hell, I could’ve written about it during 2008 with some perspective in place, but nothing helps more than that last week. Those last 7 days are the ones built to sum up your existence till the next last 7 days. You speak to the people you’ve spoken to, and you don’t hear from the ones you want to, and you hook up and you hook down and you consume and you purge and life could never be as good or as bad; never as it is when you’re on the cusp of something so almost-hedonistic it makes you want to scream in your sleep.

So this is my letter to 2008.


I think the most important thing you can take out of any event is evidence. Like scars (if you’re sad) or tattoos (if that’s your bag), having an indicator of an occurrence means you remember it. And if you remember it, maybe you can learn something from it. Learning, though, usually requires perspective. I neglected to see the value in socializing till 2001, so I made up for it in 2005, where I neglected to see the value of hard work, which in turn led to the occasional hardship in 2007, and which in turn left many things brazenly obtuse in the world of 2008. Perspective’s cleaned it all up for me. Evidence = Experience. Hope that’s not news to you, 08, especially now that you’ve passed and this letter’s resting on your tomb.

I feel like maybe I never knew you well enough. Not as well as 2007, where things changed chaotically around me. Maybe it was your even numbered grace. Maybe that’s when things will stay the same – in the years between. I’ve never been a fan of transitional periods. I don’t like dusk and dawn. There are no dimmer switches on my life. But 2008, you were all about that, weren’t you?

2008. You were one awful cunt to me, but you were a reminder. One long Post-It note from eternity to me. If you were a song, though, you’d be “Kashmir”. Neverending, but beautifully composed in that your message was so irrevocably strong in the end, but not in the middle, right? I got what you wanted me to get from you. I got 2009, and a chance to change and to live again. You had to burn away all the bad in the summer sun for me so I could be baptized by the next big wave of saline clarity. Maybe this time I’ll have enough perspective to come back better. Maybe I’ll be better for me.

The next portion of my letter is not addressed directly to you.Allow me, instead, to flip the camera around and let you look back and see what you’ve created. This is me now.

First is the matter of resolutions. I’m not big on them. Not because I don’t have resolve or enough gusto to go through with things, but because the New Year’s Resolution is as much a part of the irritating pop culture Hallmark zeitgeist as Christmas presents (if you want to buy someone something, don’t wait for Sex-Mas to do it!) or Valentine’s Day (do you love him/her? Good, now tell them on the 14th of January – I dare ya). With that in mind, I decided to forego creating something worth doing for the New Year, and instead decided to take my upcoming (now 8 days into) new year as a chance to cleanse the old system. I came up with my Lifetime Resolution, and I decided that it won’t just be mine; the world can have it if they want it, and I’d advise that they took it. My resolution is, simply, “Improve Yourself”. Look in the mirror and say it. I will. And why not? We complain daily about the drudgery of humanity, the tediousness of living, about our bodies and our friends and our lovers and our pets. Do yourself a favor and find a way to live a life that, while not complaint free, is at least somewhat more to your liking. It’s not too late to see your aspirations come to light, and no one said your dreams were tax deductible, so fuck all your thinking. Let the world fall apart without you sitting in your cubicle, all because you wanted to see Tokyo before you got too old to fuck Asian teenagers in schoolgirl outfits and not have to pay for it. Let it. See what happens. Test your limits and break them, if need be, to find out what works for you.

It was a few months ago when I had a conversation with some friends. We were discussing how a female friend of ours could pass for a boy if we dressed her up as such. Suddenly, mid-conversation, I noted that I’d never worn a dress in my life. And why is that? Why haven’t I? No one told me I couldn’t. I just never got there. Now it’s time to get there. I have all the time in the world and none of the time in the universe, but I’ve got something more significant than any alien bacteria, and that’s my right to experience. Experience like no plant or animal or sheet of cloth ever could.

With resolutions out the way, I must next address the most important lesson I’ve learned all year. “Trust Yourself”. I noted in a previous entry that the divine voice in your head was usually right about things, especially in regards to yourself. Why not listen to it? As long as it isn’t telling you that “Mars is amazing”, you should be fine and set to enjoy your life on your own terms. Nothing wrong with worrying about your social profile, but try not to let your self-image end up entirely based on the opinions of everyone else.

I’ll leave the people for another blog.

And thank You and FUCK you, 2008.

Yours sincerely (just this once?),

So “Trust Yourself” and maybe you’ll be able to “Improve Yourself”.

2 Responses to “My Tangerine Year”
  1. Anonymous says:

    Yeah, because all Asian girls in Tokyo walk around in school uniforms waiting for someone young enough to fuck for free.I participated.(i dont have an account but if I did, my username would be gay4Nas101)

  2. Nas Hoosen says:

    Argh! You broke my metaphor.

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