Cold Feet for the New Year

 The last night of the year.  It always feels like the last night on Earth.

I have a healthy remuda of well-broken excuses for not writing.  Every writer needs them and the smart writer keeps the excuses close to hand.  For example, I could say that I have not been working at the blog because I am suffering the ill effects of banging against the ramparts of traditional publishing.  (True)  Or, if I saddle up that trusty old sorrel over there, I could trot out the excuse that I have been shocked to inactivity by the misfortunes in my native land.  (Not so true)  There is nothing to be done but to strain this metaphor to the death, pull the pickets and hobbles, and the let the ponies run where they will. 

All of that strained metaphor and the lovely references to a remuda ('fess up, you had to Google that one, right?) cannot hide the fact that this is a fluff piece, an easy pony to climb back up on.  As KV would say, "HI Ho."

Yes, it is Silvesternacht in Wien, New Year's Eve Viennese Style.

Despite the bone-chilling cold we set out for another Silvesternacht celebration.  650,000 people made their way down to the Alt Stadt to sip hot punsch out of silly mugs, smoke like chimneys, and waltz in the streets.  This last is not an exaggeration.  Folks really do waltz in the streets during Silvesternacht.  The old city is lit up like a faerie land, all the bars and cafes turn into punsch stands, and everyone freezes their asses off to welcome the new year.

The Rathaus, Groundzero for the fireworks.

How much to you like your fellow human?

We squeezed into the confines of the Rathaus area, past the security and fencing.  The crowd was literally seething shoulder-to-shoulder.  Tourist hint:  Unless you are stout of heart, staying outside the Rathaus is a better way to see the fireworks and not have a panic attack.  The press of humanity was tight as the band banged through a steady covering of the Beatles, the Stones, and then more Beatles.  The punsch was luke-warm, the crowd was hot, and the smoke thick.  

Happy 2017

I believe that it will be an interesting year, both personally and at a community level.  The calamities of recent political events will continue to take their course.  But this is a fluff piece, so the machinations of the Fascists will have to wait for a later post.  But not much later.  

 Merry-Makers Transported.  The after-crowd on the U-Bahn.  I love the U-Bahn.

For myself, the New Year brings the promise of life as a card-carrying resident of Austria, out from under the shadow of limited visas.  I will continue to throw myself against the ramparts of traditional publishing, re-writes, and revisions.  When I have bloodied myself enough to satisfy my infantile pride, I will move on to more sensible means of publishing.  That accomplished, it is back to the looming novel projects, of which three have magically appeared as folders on my laptop.  

So, it is now 2017.  Happy-happy, Joy-Joy.  Personally, the last year was an adventure and a challenge, a wonderment of love and travel and creativity.  For the world, I think 2016 was more of a sharp kick in the face.  I guess the world will have to answer that one.  It is a New Year and what will happen is yet to be seen.  And so the end of a fluff piece and a forced return to real blogging.  Stay tuned for the Death of Absurdity and the Perils of Reading Les Miserables.