Happy Fucking New Year

I am out of decaf tea, so I pop a stick of grape bubble gum in my mouth. I just need something to fool my mouth into thinking it's not dry. Dehydration is so 2009.

2010.

Cliché about how time flies. About how time presses forward. Maybe I noticed kids playing basketball in the street. Maybe I noticed a gang of hipsters keeping warm at the coffee shop.

They look so young and energetic. They look like Christmas presents. So neatly wrapped in jackets and hoodies. Bright colored scarves dance around their necks. Each of them sipping carefully on chocolate lattes.

I think they notice me watching them.

I am walking quickly home. I am listening to music. I have my sweatshirt on. I have my earphones in. I alternate staring at the pavement and checking out the girls congregated at the outdoor coffee shop.

The guy stares back at me. I wonder what he is thinking. He has a scarf on too. He is drinking some kind of coffee. He is blowing on the lid to cool it down.

I am changing songs on my phone. I am carrying a large soda. The straw is sticking out of the cup. I take a sip when he takes a sip. I am walking past him too quickly to make up my mind about him and his friends.

They are loud group. They all look like they are having fun.

I am having fun too.

I just ate at WhataBurger. I listened to the Atheist Experience Podcast.

It is 10 pm.

I could have taken the bus, but I decided to walk. I feel the exercise is good for me.

I feel young enough.

I can walk to fast food. I can skip the bus and walk in the cold. My toe does not hurt too much today. I am wearing brown socks that soak up the blood from my ingrown toenail. I am sure this is all psychological, but not seeing the blood congealing around my toes is nice. I feel whole again.

That is an exaggeration.

I don't feel that good.

But I won't lie. I only feel pity for the group of college kids. They are so naïve. They are sure that youth lasts forever. They are sure they will remain cute and stylish. People will check out their washboard stomachs. They sneak jealous appreciative glances at the spiffy scarves they wear.

They are so funny to me.

I am laughing as I walk past them.

Some of them stare over at me. And I point at my headphones. I tell one of them that I am listening to a Bill Cosby CD.

"That's why I am laughing so hard." I tell her.

I take my earphones out.

She says that she loved Ghost Dad as a kid.

Suddenly the kids stop milling around. One of them laughs at the girl that loved Ghost Dad.

The girl looks down at the pavement. She has on a purple scarf. She has long, straight brown hair. Her hair wisps around her face and sticks to her lightly colored lips.

She says now she thinks that Ghost Dad is a terrible movie. She says she loved Titanic and Avatar, and says she loves how James Cameron is the D.W. Griffith of the 21^st century.

The boy who laughed laughs again at her.

He tells her to stop trying to use Film 101 on us.

"But we all love Avatar." A voice I can't see says.

The girl must have a friend.

"3-D is awesome!" I say.

I don't care what they think.

I think 3-d is awesome.

I think 3-D is the wave of the future.

I am walking away. I am putting my earphones back in. I am remembering that I think all those kids will be dead one day. One day these kids will get old. I am thinking I don't want to be them when they get old.

Being old will be such a drag. Not for me.

Futility is something like an old friend to me. A friend I no longer want to see. But one I stop by now and then, and I try to remember what we had in common before we stopped hanging out.