Who the fuck am I kidding? This is shaping up to be a Dorothy Parker month, and we’re only four days into it. I’m feeling all sorts of bitter, querulous and unkind – and it makes me all the more morbidly obsessed with overthinking whether I’m the actual problem. Some of my friends and family would disagree, but they’re likely the ones who are disagreeable to me right now. At least I know enough to step back and retreat from being the sort of bad company I would prove to be, while trying to avoid too much texting that will be mis-read and misinterpreted. It’s funny how only the texts that people find personally problematic with some element of their life that has nothing to do with me are the only ones that are read or responded to. There, take that sentence-ending preposition as an indication that I just don’t fucking care anymore.
It’s too early to be over this holiday season, and so I shall withdraw into myself, into my own quiet breathing – slowly in, slowly out – enjoying the only company that has always proved to be true. I know I made a promise not to be messy this Christmas, but fuck it, I lied. Some days I’m going to be a strong cup of black and bitter coffee, and I’ll want nothing to do with a tempering of your cream, your sugar, or your holiday fucking sprinkles.
Cold mess, hot mess, bold mess, shot mess – I’m done betraying my brilliance for good behavior.
Dorothy never did.
Frustration by Dorothy Parker
If I had a shiny gun, I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folk who give me pains;
Or had I some poison gas, I could make the moments pass Bumping off a number of People whom I do not love.
But I have no lethal weapon- Thus does Fate our pleasure step on! So they still are quick and well Who should be, by rights, in hell.
While ‘There’s Always Tomorrow‘ plucks at the heartstrings, and ‘The Christmas Waltz‘ sways in sad three-quarter time, it is this song that always melts my heart – strangely, as it’s one of the most uplifting holiday classic songs that’s ever been written. A highlight of the animated ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town’ – one of the stalwart chestnuts from my childhood’s television diet – this tells the story of when the Winter Warlock is transformed into a friendly creature through the generosity of Kris Kringle.
There’s a room in the cafe I frequent that is called the Library Room. I’ve sat there only a couple of times, as it’s ironically the space that is least conducive to writing, for me. The strangest reason for this is that it’s too quiet and calm. In the main cafe space, there is music and talking, the noise of plates and cups and silverware clinking, the indecisive bantering of confused customers and patient workers. It’s a challenge to block it all out, and I prosper under a challenge.
Without distraction and background noise, there is nothing to push against, no focus that must be mustered, and the words somehow don’t flow as easily. My mind hasn’t quite figured out the intricacies behind it, other than this initial hypothesis. And I’m already tired, hence this hasty ending to a post that has me antsy to get out of the Library Room and back into the main flow of life.
It is at odds with so much I once thought about myself. This room is dangerous that way.
One of the best things to come out of the musical version of ‘Mame’ is this happy holiday chestnut which we will use to christen this Christmas season. Its contagious joy and giddiness feels slightly at odds with the current state of the world, but that’s also sort of the point of this song – which begs for a celebration right here and now in the face of all that’s awful.
Haul out the holly Put up the tree before My spirit falls again…
Fill up the stocking I may be rushing things But deck the halls again now
It’s a herald and a cry for joy no matter the time of year, and it’s the sort of desperate plea for some shred of happiness that somehow knows it’s all destined for failure – or at the very least a fall far short of high hopes and dreams. That’s the essence of being human though, isn’t it? The desire and drive to keep trying, to keep wishing, to keep believing – in hope, in love, in Christmas, and in the face of everything and everyone around you pulling the world apart.
For we need a little Christmas Right this very minute Candles in the window Carols at the spinet Yes, we need a little Christmas Right this very minute It hasn’t snowed a single flurry But Santa, dear, we’re in a hurry
We haul out our holly, we hang our brightest lights and fill our empty stockings because we are still human. Flawed, failed, fractured, marred and scarred humans, fumbling for betterment, sometimes for mere survival – and we keep going. We fall and falter, slip and sputter, wail and waiver, finding and taking our joy in tiny fits and spurts, and it must be enough.
Enough to sustain us.
Enough to give purpose to rising in the morning.
Sometimes that’s found in the laugh of a friend.
Sometimes it’s in the patience of a husband.
Sometimes it’s in the melody of a song.
So climb down the chimney Put up the brightest string Of lights I’ve ever seen
Slice up the fruitcake It’s time we hung some tinsel On that evergreen bough
For I’ve grown a little leaner Grown a little colder Grown a little sadder Grown a little older And I need a little angel Sitting on my shoulder Need a little Christmas now
A shout-out to my pal Janet for introducing me to the wonder that is Dominique Crenn – the first female chef in the United States to earn three Michelin stars, and now our Dazzler of the Day. An immigrant from France, Crenn carved out a path of culinary excellence while pushing the boundaries and possibilities of a sustainable way of cooking and eating. She’s written two books appeared in multiple televisions shows, and, perhaps more impressively than anything else, has battled breast cancer while maintaining a rigorous work schedule. A personal and professional marvel, Crenn is precisely the sort of inspiration the world needs right now.
I’m not sure that I’m the best person to guide or share anything that relates to the sweet baby Jesus, but if calm and peace and meditative endeavors bring us closer to God, maybe that’s as good as it will get. At the very least, may this be a place where there are glimmers of peace and tranquility, moments of stillness and relative silence when the rest of the world falls to noisy and chaotic pieces. I’d never be so presumptuous as to think I can change the world, but I can change what I decide to put out here, how I tell the stories I want to tell, and which was I decide to go when life demands decisions.
When you listen to the snow, you can listen to your breathing. One’s breath is sometimes all one has, and it’s the most immediately available resource we have for calming the race of the mind. When all else fails, breathe in, breathe out, slow it down a bit… and breathe in, breathe out… and again…
A major component of the magic that is the land of Oz in the ‘Wicked’ movie universe is wondrous work of costume designer Paul Tazewell, who won a rightly-deserved Oscar for the first film, and continues his enchantment in ‘Wicked: For Good‘. This post marks the return of our Dazzler of the Day feature, and Tazewell more than merits the celebratory nature of this post. His costumes are the stuff of high art – exquisite of style and enchanting of detail – and they manage to be effortlessly whimsical while telling their own story to accompany those of the characters.
Despite the current White House’s attempt to erase World AIDS Day from happening, it’s still being honored among decent people, so fuck the people running the government right now. We’ve had to fight sun fights before, and we will fight them again and again, and in the end love and human decency will always prevail. Hatred eats away at itself, and one’s behavior in this world will surely not go unseen in the next. On with the weekly recap, in spite of the dumpster fire engulfing us…
Cold earth sleeps Underneath a flaming northern sky The snowy trees gently weep This dark Christmas time
Now it’s been almost a year since I last saw her, and eight months since she last bothered to text me back. Looking at my long litany of texts since then – some comical, some casual, some desperate, some panicked – I cringe at my pathetic attempts to cling to a friendship that apparently slipped away many months ago.
Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal – no one really returns texts anymore, and to expect them to be timely is even more laughable. Still, it’s no secret that it’s a sore spot for me, and it preys diabolically on my most tender and raw insecurities of not mattering – and admittedly hurts me in a way that explains so very much of my pathology. The entire ghosting thing, and not responding at all, even in the face of pointed pleas to “Just tell me you are alive and not dead or deported by ICE”, strikes at my heart in a manner that has directly fueled the monster I’ve become.
Don’t hide the light that shines in you Let the brightest star of Bethlehem Make your darkness fade away Believe the power of your dreams You’re the Pharos in the night Guiding us, you’ll lead the way
Eventually, I tracked down one of her daughters on social media, who said her mother still had the same number, and I assumed that meant she was alive as well – and that’s all that matters, and all that’s left to say. This sort of thing has never happened to me before – not in a platonic relationship. Romantically, I’ve scared away more than my fair share of possible paramours – and their ghosting of me made more sense. I don’t understand anything about this one, all I feel is hurt, confused, and looking for another failure on my part to make it make sense. The world has thrown enough at me this year to start making me doubt myself.
With Kira gone from my life, that means that one of my favorite holiday traditions – our holiday stroll – has also come to an end. It seems like many of the traditions I once held so close to my heart have fallen by the wayside, and at this point I am trying hard to even be bothered by it, because I really should care. Apathy begets apathy I suppose, and maybe it was time for me to let go of such things. In so many respects I am the only one holding on to traditions – and for what? Maybe there is something to honoring tradition year after year, as a means of grounding our lives at regular intervals in a way that matters to us – and maybe there isn’t. I watch today’s generation flit from year to year, experience to experience, with no ties or significant pulls to anything other than the moment at hand. They don’t hang onto traditions, or friends, the way I did. Maybe that’s the best route to take now. Maybe none of it fucking matters, and that might just make life much easier and less tortured. It will certainly make holiday-planning easier and completely absolve me of any obligation to be there for any of it.
We are not obligated to anything, or anyone, and it may be high time for me to join the masses and let go of tradition for the sake of tradition. Perhaps that goes for friendships too – just because we shared a certain section of life together need not mean we have to share the rest of it, and that doesn’t have to be a bad or sad thing. I’d rather remember the good times Kira and I shared, and not the fact that she ghosted me, as I’m sure she must have her reasons. That’s the sort of peace and happy ending I want and need right now. Being messy – even on an emotional level – is always a choice. And as messy as I’ve been in the past, there’s a point when one must decide to stop the mess, and this is that season for me.
Snowflake falls, warms my heart Memories call me home Silence hauls, fears depart I’ll never be alone.
… or some such bullshit rhyme. The sooner this astrologically-fucked month departs, the better. The emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks can’t entry be blamed on the stars and planets – we each have a hand and some pull in our destinies. Personally, I’ve been doing a decent job at handling tricky events with a lighter touch, knowing full well that to incite a battle at such a time would be to incite a war – and who can be bothered with such an undertaking just as the holiday season gets under way?
While I reserve the right to wage the wrath of truth and blunt talk at any time I damn well please, I am making an effort not to burn anything to the ground right now. We shall see how long this charitable stance lasts… I suggest not pushing it.
