It’s Nolan’s ROCKIN’ New Year’s Eve!!

Starring ME!  MYSELF!  AND I!  The spirits of my deceased ancestors!  The painting behind me!  Which I myself would not have selected!! (Sorry, Mom.)  Ben!  And Jerry!!  Or, rather, their eponymous product!!  Nirvana, via my playlist!!  Whatever godforsaken animal that is at the house across the street that is howling so grotesquely!!  (It’s either one of those new “coywolves,” or a depressed Lycan, or a wounded goddam Hound of the Baskervilles; I’m not sure.  You kinda don’t expect that in New York.)

My trip home was arranged on the fly; I didn’t contact a single high school friend.  This is the fruit of my lack of foresight.

I might just resurrect my childhood imaginary friend Kachoual.  He was a Bengal tiger, and goddam huge.  I’d be less wigged out about the geographically incongruous hellhound I’m hearing.

Oh, well — four minutes!  Happy New Year!!!

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