December 24th, 2004

bobby hill

so, it's a holiday.

I'm just now about to leave the office, though we were let go at noon. I stuck around with nobody here. Or rather, came back after checking out dog-sitting scene with squirrelykat. Been doing this 'n' that, only a little of it work.

And so it begins, this solitary Xmas eve & Xmas morning. I shall have to say mas to X. Or maybe say it to O. I like hugs, too, after all, plus there are the magical connotations of zero in there, I reckon.

We were a Christmas Eve present-openin' clan. I think maybe sometimes we had stocking stuff on the following morning? I dunno. I do remember scheming with my brother to prove that Santa was our parents by comparing his handwriting with each of theirs. They got on to us after that and faked it better, but I think it was with some delight that they experienced my coup of a subsequent year: I proved the nonexistence of Santa by asking my mother, months after Christmas, where she'd bought the Monopoly game Santa had supposedly given us. Her answer, "Western Auto," sealed it.

It was a coming of age of sorts in a (pseudo-)rationalist family.

It feels nicely transgressive to be playing my end-of-year song mix on the actual SPEAKERS here in the Ref Room. I bet they're going to have some cool days next week, with just the few around. I kinda hate to miss it.

So what ya'll are getting for Capitalistmas from me, besides my hearty wishes for a fine new year, is a copy of this CD, if you want it. (Some of you are getting one even if you don't!) It's a sort of a song cycle of a shitty year, so you may want to pass if that's unappealing to you. Otherwise, give me a holler. I'm trying to burn enough for my holiday visitees first, but when I get back I'll be able to pass around and/or send out your very own "Out With the 2004." Thanks for your contributions to it, squirrelykat, upsidedownblue, onstar, bigfinedaddy, and Bert & Paula & WEMU, and, in more oblique ways, sprig5, disclaimerwill, & pijeanf, and even the one going out with the 2004 like so much dishwater.

Well, okay, not like dishwater, exactly. Not at all like dishwater, in fact.

Sometimes those glib expressions are hard to resist, hard not to try to force/fake-fit, in all their off-hand glory, where they don't apply a whit.
ferndale bar lisa

Mostly, what I've put off is the fun stuff.

I've always loved wrapping presents. All aspects of it. The key for me is getting most of the less fun stuff out of the way first (so I can savor it) but not waiting so long as to be in a rush (so I can savor it). Basically, I like to savor it.

Sadly I can't name, off the top of my head, many things I've let myself savor, or even set out to savor, this year. And I'm all for savoriness. The most delicious things have been from people. That unbidden kindness that is so sweet it smarts seems to have been followed, in many cases, by a warm cozy companionability that even stunted Lisa can savor, even while picking myself up off the hard asphalt where Love dumped me, breaking bones & causing contusions and abrasions &, just to rub it in, knocking the wind out of me as never before.

Not to be dramatic about it. (wink)

So suddenly I have two (2) dinner invitations for tomorrow. The goal now is to enjoy my chores tonight and tomorrow morning, and try to do some decent trip prep before joining company in the evening. I'm loving that burning CDs, which requires work on the computer, makes surfing part of my work effort, more or less. Right now I'm working on my "to do" list. Kinda like "I'm cleaning my oven"---anybody else remember that commercial? I think you probably have to be at least 35.

OH---guess what I get to do tomorrow? I'm going to be Santa for Nyeli & Za(c)k. I get to sneak down the chimney, put presents under the tree, leave a note, and TAKE THE COOKIES. How a-fuckin'-bout that? I have the power to speak for Saint Nick. I'm almost drunk with it already, and I have a day to cook up more mischief I could include.

I make a fucking excellent kids' CD mix, tyvm.
  • Current Music
    "Everybody Came" [not about sex] -- Ambrosia Parsley