January 1, 2021 by Tosh Berman

 It’s not a good way to start a new year when Hank Williams died on January 1st. On the other hand, there is always something special about New Year’s Day weather. Sunny, but cool, and a touch of regret about the past year spent mostly indoors in a one-room flat. My only amusement is to re-design the library books that I had out for numerous months. I have this nasty habit of making collages and drawings in borrowed books and then returning them to the library system. That, and trying to write a play that was due some time ago. 

To put a positive spin this morning, I put on Xavier Cugat’s “That Latin Beat,” and I did the rumba toward the coffee pot to have my first cup of civilization. As usual, my next-door neighbor slams the wall between us to tell me to turn down the Hi-Fi.  I don’t think I ever heard a word from him, just the slams that happen whenever I put on a disc on the record player. Kim, my neighbor, the only good aspect of him is that he travels a lot. I have only seen him once or twice, and I have heard rumors from other neighbors that he is a spy. Noisy neighbors do tell when we meet up in the laundry room in the basement. 

As for me, I can work under an anarchy system of noise. My partner-in-crime, Kenneth, never shuts up. The only saving grace of our relationship is that he likes to sleep in late, and he can sleep through me having sex with two men on the bed, and it wouldn’t cause an eyelid to be open. It’s the early morning when I write and get totally lost in my world. I don’t sleep much, and I rarely get stoned unless I’m on holiday in Morocco or someplace like that. I usually end a writing session with a record by Milt Jackson. I’m a big fan of his vibe-playing, and primarily when he covers music by Monk. 

I admire Kenneth for his wit, but he is also a very sad man, and that is a turn-off. Yet, I can’t imagine my life being separated by his presence. I think I’m most happy with him when he’s sound asleep. He has these weird temper tantrum’s and I just roll my eyes and pretend to either be sleeping or totally engrossed in my notebook with pen in hand. As I close my eyes, and I’m in front of my notebook, I think what it must have been like for Hank to be in the back seat of that Cadillac.  The driver of his car, Charles Carr, realized that Hank was dead not until he stopped for gas in Oak Hill, West Virginia. In my heart (and sometimes brain), I always felt that Kenneth’s death would be just as lonely as Hank’s. 

January 1st brings a new life or an approach to the next 12 months. Between you and me, I didn’t like the previous year at all. This year, I’m going to keep my hammer by the bed and keep my neighbor Kim up at odd hours of the night.