In my most recent blog, New Year’s Peeve, I wrote the following sentence, ‘I’ve only ever had one good New Year’s Eve (NYE) and that was because I spent it drinking champagne and downing oysters with a woman who also hated NYE’. This is not true.
After posting New Year’s Peeve, a good friend of mine, Aaron Firth Donato, called me up and said, ‘Hey cunty, what about 2007/8? That was a great NYE and you stayed at my place for three days, drinking my whisky and watching DVDs on my couch’. He makes a good point. I did have a great NYE and I did drink all his whisky and occupied his couch for three days, watching films that extol the virtues of stylized violence.
So, Aaron, this is my heartfelt apology to you because it was a great NYE and it took place during an oddly compelling summer, when I lived in Collingwood and walked the long corridor of my house wearing a red-wine-stained-white-dressing-gown, swilling from a bottle of cleanskin wine. I was completely broke, so I re-read A Happy Death by Albert Camus, and got a job writing copy for an OH&S company.
The rest of the year had its ups and downs and NYE 2008/9 was a bit dismal but I won’t get into that now because this post is meant to be an apology, and not another voyage into the skewed views of Callum Scott. This is a post about the value of friendship and taking responsibility for writing something that isn’t all together true.
That NYE party ensured that Aaron and I will always be friends and I’ll always be grateful for his honesty, even though it sometimes makes me angry, and makes me want to hurt him with knitting needles.
This post is for you Big Man.