He had a whiskey and rum flavoured hangover that had been festering in the dark corners of his brain, the rising sun of the new year had tempted it to come to the fore, to see the first dawn of another decade, to see how he would change things.
Another twelve months had passed since his last attempt at dragging himself out of the pit of twenty first century life and the hangover remembered his comical efforts, chuckling to itself as it pounded on the interior of his skull demanding that he awaken and suffer.
Lain across his bed like a demented human sculpture he slowly opened his eyes, the hangover bristled with excitement. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that the pain kayaking through his stomach and hiking around his head would diminish if he deprived them of light. The hangover guffawed, the sounds echoing silently around the weakened nervous system, why hadn't he realised that it was too late, the hangover was here, and it didn't want to leave.
Lying in dishevelled sweaty bedclothes he tried to ignore the raucous chants of the hangover, he tried to think of the previous night and of the promises he had made. Blurred flashes of undeveloped photography collapsed against the backdrop of closed eyes. Through the din of hangover's dissonant yawp, his own voice calling from the previous past.
The hangover set about churning his stomach with last nights excess, and he forced back the onrushing physical evidence with held breath and clenched sides. Groaning quietly he recalled the bold promise of 2009.
He would no longer sit in the shadows, no more would he be satisfied to watch whilst others painted the world wild shades of rainbow, he would not be happy with the illusion of comfort and the promise of banality. With whatever he had in his arsenal he would break holes in the concrete of conformity and claw at the blue skies beyond the clouds of disillusion. By god he would rip up the roots of 24-7 and cast them into the primordial ooze of chaos, moulding them with his hands until they no longer resembled anything ever seen by man nor beast, until they basked light upon a path to dreams forbidden, to lands unimagined, to potential reawakened.
2010 spread like a never ending dawn just outside his window, the sunlight shining down on places and moments not yet seen. Yet the hangover just laughed, he had heard it all before in the promises of the foolish, seen it in the eyes of the misguided.
But even as hangover began another assault on demoralised brain cells it wondered to itself about the possibilites of a new year, of a fresh start, that spark of willingness, that ability to see beyond the walls of flesh and time, surely everything is not eventual, surely everyone can if they say they can, hangover sat down, relinquishing it's hold on his brain coral.
No-one does anything alone, thought hangover.
For Star Trek