(Recommended song to listen to while reading this letter: Signal / Noise)
I consume, therefore I am.
I follow, therefore I am.
I obey, therefore I am.
I suffer, therefore I am.
I suffer with, therefore I am.
I’m fucking with, therefore I am.
I’m being fucked with, therefore I am.
I forgive, therefore I am.
I love, therefore I am.
I do, therefore I am.
I go on, therefore I am.
Who’d have thought? I think and yet I am not.
Tomorrow’s the start of a new year. So the Earth, in orbit around the sun, is in the same place it was a year ago. Same as it was a year ago now. Or now a year ago.
But the earth is not in the same place as it was a year ago. Nor is the sun, nor the solar system. Nor the galaxy, nor the universe. Actually, we don’t know where we are.
I’m sitting at a table right now, it’s made of wood. Outside I see houses and so I quickly perceive the earth. Fireworks are already lit. I write to you. You’ll probably read this tomorrow. In the New Year.
I’m already in the New Year. How, you think? It works the same way as that the first of January shall be the New Year. If I were a king with inferiority complexes, I’d name a month after myself. I’d call October the Bujar. Makes even more sense. After all, Bujar, translated from Albanian into German, means generous. So we hope for generous harvests!
Well. Do you understand what I mean? Choose your month! Your year! You can even change the day into year! Then you can celebrate every new day! I mean, every new year, every day! Do you understand me?
I guess not anymore. I confused you. No, you are confused. In fact, you’ve never questioned this before, and now you notice the confusion in your system! Or you understand me and still find it funny what I write or rather boring, because this is nothing new for you.
At least we feel something: that the next year is in our hands. We think.