The piece seems to be
experimental in the form, a stream of consciousness piece, like something
someone would write with insomnia. This makes me think of the limbo between
asleep and awake, with tired eyes and restless mind. Occasionally the long
words and looping sentence structure reinforced by frequent commas lure the
reader into this non-alert awake-ness. The title brings to mind New Years,
which, like almost any other holiday, can mean celebration and drunken cheer
for some and solitude drunken misery for others. I get the sense of a groggy,
grumpy “I am awake and I shouldn’t be,” which is only supported by the dream
like images and phrasing. There seems to be a lack of understanding, a second
guessing of the speaker by him or herself, such as when “she wept with joy,
although quite possibly she did so for some other reason”. The words seems to push the reader faster
along the page, pulling only the strongest images and stringing them together
like some sort of haphazard snowflake chain.
There is so much imagery bombarding the reader it is akin to having
their face handled and pointed in varying directions with dozens of voices
prompting them to look a tone thing or another. In this way, the reader is
rushed along through surreal image after surreal image, barely finding time to
stop at the end, which is ironically pinched off at “The story keeps on going…”
though this is an excerpt.
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