The concept of a new year is another in a sequence of human, all too human, fabrications imposed on the world, an attempt to impose a degree of circularity to the terrifyingly steady and efficient march of time into the foggy future. Except that the world is nothing *but* cyclical: planting/tending/harvest/shivering seasons, the waning/waxing moon, rainy/dry seasons, mating/birthing seasons, etc, etc ad nauseum.
Tempus fugit is a Latin phrase translating as “Time flees,” but is more well-approximated with the familiar “Time flies.”
It’s been just over a year since the Hornets were taken over by the NBA, forever changing the course of the franchise. The past year has been turbulent for other reasons, as well, but now we are though 2011 and some issues have been resolved, so are not, and many are in some in-between state. So it is not with complete relief that Hornets fans sing Auld Lang Syne, but it is not with complete despair either.
The concept of a new year is another in a sequence of human, all too human, fabrications imposed on the world, an attempt to impose a degree of circularity to the terrifyingly steady and efficient march of time into the foggy future. We prefer our world curled up into a metaphysical fetal position, pregnant with potential, and cowering both from the light and from the dark.
The question of will the team be sold has been replaced with who will buy the team. It will give way to will that owner be a good owner.
Getting to 10,000 season tickets sold has yielded to keeping 10,000 season tickets sold. In the future we will worry about other forms of enthusiasm.
Chris Paul contract and knee questions have moved to Los Angeles while Eric Gordon contract and knee questions took the red eye to town. In the coming years, it will be be someone else with some other questionable body part.
We’re plowing through reality in our jalopy at an approximately constant rate, and the details in the wrikles of reality are just lovebugs on the windshield. They all make their own splatters, and eventually they add up and we have to pull over, unable to drive further, but every stretch of road really no different than any other . . . just a little further in one direction or another.
Nothing will ever be solved, and nothing will ever be done. This, however, is why the play the game, so to speak. The point of a journey is not to arrive, and such. These destinations are just as arbitrary as the rising of the sun . . . your sunrise is her noon and his sunset . . . it’s five o’clock somewhere . . .
The lack of any ontological significance to today’s sunrise and tomorrow’s sunset . . . neither of which `really exist’ either . . . should not daunt us, for we attach the meaning. In the sense of William James, it has meaning if we give it a meaning that affects us. This is convenient, because Hornets fans have been affected tremendously between during this piece of road from New Year to New Year.
Let’s stop for one moment, a little nothing spot in time, reach out, and realize that no matter what no matter what happens, we have our days gone by . . . all of us . . . together. The tremendous variety of opinions and outlooks we have about our beloved and beleaguered New Orleans Hornets is a testament to that which is most important about this team: the conversation.
For a moment, let’s just celebrate what we’ve formed here and be thankful.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?
No matter who we lose,
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp and surely I’ll be mine! And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
No matter our role,
We twa hae run about the braes, and pu’d the gowans fine; But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit, sin auld lang syne.
No matter how exhausting the road,
We twa hae paidl’d i’ the burn, frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar’d sin auld lang syne.
No matter how fierce the storm,
And there’s a hand, my trusty fier and gie’s a hand o’ thine! And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught, for auld lang syne.
We will get through it all together,
For auld lang syne, my jo, for auld lang syne, we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
And we’ll always toast the days gone by.
Thanks to everyone that was a part of this past year, for helping to make one more.