Blue Christmas At The End Of The World

What a strange, strange night.

I’ve been meaning to record a few Christmas songs for ya’ll for a few weeks. But I haven’t really been home for a few weeks. And when I have been home, I was neither in the mood to play music, nor in the Christmas spirit. But the transit strike (which appears to be approaching an end) has had me home all week, which has been great.

But I also got a copy of Speilberg’s “War of the Worlds” yesterday. So I was conflicted. What I really wanted to do was sit on my couch, eat sushi, and watch TV. But I had an obligation. I had some Christmas Cheer to spread, gosh darn it.

So I did both.

Imagine the scene. I’m upstairs drinking a Saporo, and getting carried away with guitar solos and tamborine parts for Merry Christmas Baby. I’m trying to sound like Bruce Springsteen, but I’m sounding more like Terrence Trent D’Arby if Terrence Trent D’Arby was born in Iowa. The buzzer rings. Dinner’s here.

I run downstairs, pay the dude, and spread out in front of the TV. Thirty minutes pass and I haven’t eaten a thing. My chopsticks are in my right hand, but I’m frozen in place, mouth is agape. The film is relentless, and huge, and horrible. And it’s impossible to watch without thinking about September 11th, and wonder just how in the hell we all survived that craziness.

Then I pop back upstairs and sing a vocal, and fix a solo, and try and think like an elf or Santa’s Little Helper, or something. Somewhere around two o’clock (yes, in the morning), when my contacts are completely gummed up and I can barely keep my eyes open, I give in, go to bed, and hope I don’t dream of three hundred foot tall Santas spewing webby, red bile from their mechanical mouths.

All my dreams were bright. Hopes yours are too. Merry Christmas!


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