Well, 1 down, 364 to go. I’m trying to come to terms with the whole idea of facing a new year. It feels a little like staring into a dark tunnel and slowly realizing it’s a crocodile’s gullet. Explains the damp air and the dripping sounds. And I can’t shake the feeling I got ripped off on the last year. I ought to have some change coming back from 2008. It was never my intention to leave any change behind as a tip. The service wasn’t all that good, if you know what I mean.

Does that seem like a negative attitude for the first day of the year? Oh well, the first day wasn’t all that great either. I overslept, then forgot to turn on the TV and watch the Rose Parade. So I’m already getting the stinky end of the existential stick in 2009.

Today, I was listening to Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac podcast for New Year’s Eve.

In Mexico, people eat one grape with each of the 12 clock chimes at midnight, and make a wish for the coming year. In Venezuela, they wear yellow underwear for a year of good luck. In Japan, people eat soba because long thin noodles symbolize longevity, and at midnight, temple bells ring 108 times, matching the 108 attachments in the mind that need to be purified before the New Year.

At midnight in Greece, families cut a cake called a vasilopita, which has a coin baked inside; whoever gets the coin will have a lucky year.

In this country, the most famous celebration is in New York City’s Times Square, where up to one million people gather each New Year’s Eve to watch a ball drop.

First of all, 108 attachments in the mind? The entire consciousness? I have more attachments than that about bodily functions alone. And I’m pretty sure the average urban Japanese guy could keep up with me on attachments. Time to update that tradition for inflation.

In the podcast, Garrison added a sentence to the end, “Be grateful you are not one of them.” Yeah. But the example he chose for US is out of context with the others from other countries. Americans do have food traditions for New Years, if you want to dig them up. In my family, we eat black eyed peas every year on January 1. Sometimes with cornbread. I googled this and learned it’s traditional in many parts of the U.S.

I’ve had my beans and watched some football – also a NYD tradition in our clan – so I guess I’m good to go. But carefully, very carefully. There is a heavy fog tonight, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it lasts until Christmas.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.