It has been nearly a decade since I last ventured out of the house on New Year's Eve, and that was in Bang Saray Thailand (wonderful
bu pat phom kari and
goong ten; way too much Mekhong to drink). Now I avoid the amateur revellers and observe a tested ritual at home: gather together several kinds of snacks, including roasted nuts and excellent pretzels; with mathematical rigor and simplicity, consume the snacks along with some number
n pints of Guinness, where
n>5 and
n is prime. Then, struggle to resist leaning my head against Morpheus's shoulder (well, Hypnos, really, but any of the Oneiroi will do) until at least 11:59 (p.m., that is).
Then, as Frank Zappa said, "Turn on the bubble machine."