Saturday, December 15, 2007

my ex, xmas

What happens if you don't celebrate Christmas? I've been withdrawing from it for years. This year I think I'll break up with it for good (or for at least this year). I don't think Christmas will miss me.

My old friend Kirk Anderson once rebelled against Christmas and gave his friends and family special rocks and stones he had picked up on beaches. This was not well received.

Last year I made ornaments out of shells and small stones. The tree looked a little, uh, rustic.

The dead are not coming back to visit.

I predict the lake will be grey, and with a lighter grey sky.

The solstice, however, is welcome. Pretty soon it won't be dark at 4:30 pm. That's something to cheer about.

10 comments:

dork said...

OK- well I wasn't going to kill myself this year but maybe that's not such a bad idea? Amy- this is so sad and funny at the same time. PLEASE post something on Christmas Eve!? We can all check in and at least do a roll call or something.

Nin Andrews said...

Oh I have always hated Christmas. It's dark and sad. For me. Alas. But it does go by. And that is always such a great feeling. To know it goes out like the garbage.

Frank (the Colt) said...

Christmas is over rated. I've told my family and friends that I'm not buying anything for them. I think skipping Christmas (or at least the material part) would be great. Maybe then people would start caring about each other more. Hell, instead of giving gifts we should all just be nice to everybody. Good luck on skipping Christmas this year!

Karen at Pen in Hand said...

The fact of the dead not coming back to visit DOES take some of the punch out of Christmas. I haven't always hated Christmas, in fact I've always loved it. But there is a seeping-away of spirit that happens of its own volition. This is especially true as the dead keep not showing up for Christmas dinner.

Anonymous said...

One childhood Christmas morning we woke to the news that my eight-year-old cousin had slipped away in the night with the sugar plum fairies, taking, for me, much of the joy of the day forever away with him. Every year for many now I find myself one day starting to count the daylite minutes by way of the sunrise and sunset numbers in the Plain Dealer weather. That day isn't yet this year, but reading your entry reminded me of it, and made me think of how the hope for and promise of spring is like shouldering the stone of the sun over the hills of winter. Ah, Spring, will be so lovely, again.

dixiedreams said...

christmas always gets me down and the sentimental music, for all of its obvious trappings, can really send me bawling. i remember once singing "silent night" to a bunch of elderly patients in a hospital. i wanted to jump off of a bridge. last year, i "made" christmas presents for everybody and felt extremely defensive about them, though i thought they were nice. bah humbug.

Amy said...

Karen, I can hear that snarky-funny tone in your voice...!
My parents used to lay out astonishing Christmases for us--they went all out, it was tremendous. But underneath it I could sense something very strange and anxious...

Dork, I WILL leave a post on xmas eve. And I will be thinking of everyone as I eat cioppini (sp?) with other "orphans" at my BFF Pam's house...

Amy said...

Dear anonymous, sorry to have reminded you of a sad time. Counting daylight minutes strikes me as a good way to help get through a Cleveland winter. No wonder people worshipped the sun...

Erin O'Brien said...

Christ awmighty, I done soaked through me whole drawer of fancy-ass hankies o'er y'all's bellyachin'

my father is dead and my brother is dead and my gram is dead and gramp is dead and my gram is dead and my gramp is dead and my cousin is dead and my mom just had cancer again and my aunt no like me and my uncle no like me but I still got a stocking on xmas morning so Santa is still alive!

yay!

we feasted on great roasted beefie and skins of wine and had a teary toast to me mumsy-in-law who died three months before

but the cookies, me mates! the cookies! choco and butter and sprinkles and nutter. frosted and iced, yummy and crumby

if you cut off my right hand, i'd still find a way to masturbate

Three fingers of Metaxa: 100 proof in a snifter. "I'd-a drunk it from a Dixie cup, but methinks it woulda burned straight through the paper!" said I and me dead dad laughed and laughed over that.

I inhaled and exhaled and did it again--you can call that a gift me maties

go on and laugh and cry at the same time. no one'll think ill of ye for it

methinks each and every one of you mates needs to do read this

believe, say I, believe, believe, believe

shhhh

the magic ain't in the star, babies, it's in the wish

shhh

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