a bottle of cold duck

the question at the office goes like this, what are you doing for new year's eve. the answers run the range from concerts to clubs to doing absolutely nothing. me, we're doing a traditional thing. a pot of fondue with the family. we've been doing this as long as anna and i have been together.

but another thing i want to do is find a bottle of cold duck and open it on the anointed hour. cold duck? you remember, don't you, from the 1970s, a mish-mash of sparkling wines that was advertised as a holiday tradition back in the day. my office-mates, except for a few, think i've hallucinated the wine. cold duck sounds like something from the '70s, right. completely off-the-wall referent torn from its subject.

sure enough the commercials i remember for cold duck exist as i remember them. thanks to the internets what faulkner said of the past not being the past because it hasn't even passed is surely true of our digital culture. everything, the past included, is available with a few strokes of the keys.

behold:



we are leaving the first decade of the 21st century and i still don't have my jetpack. you know, back when we were kids and thought of the future as a mash-up of futuristic designs from say the film metropolis and the jetsons and it looked like the 2000s would give us time travel, food pills and flying cars. i'm just gonna have to make do, i guess.

no new year's resolutions for me. more of the same please. more poems. more movies. more music. more friendships. more love to share.

happy new year!