Monday, December 24, 2012


Of showing up at work on Christmas Eve, of deferring dreams for yet another year, of eating fried fish and breaking wafer-bread, of driving out to the suburbs, of staying up too late, of sleeping in, of remembering to get away and meditate on the creator and created order by wandering through the woods, walking by the lake under aqua sky, wondering what bird's body lays broken on the sand.

A weekend of hanging out with sundry folk, live music, new faces, old friends, so strange how some of us changed between college and almost-30. A subcultural shift of sorts, of identities blossoming far from where we met, the memories we conjure feel so distant to what we are now. There are other people for him to see but thankfully his friends are up for conversation and speak a similar language. I stay later than I thought I would, drive home with the windows down past state troopers looking for pre-holiday drunks.

Downtown was deserted, I haven't slept enough. I haven't figured out the trajectory of the show tomorrow and if I'm going to sleep in or not. In the meantime, listen to Lanegan, dammit.


  1. When snow is shaken
    From the balsam trees
    And they're cut down
    And brought into our houses

    When clustered sparks
    Of many-colored fire
    Appear at night
    In ordinary windows

    We hear and sing
    The customary carols

    They bring us ragged miracles
    And hay and candles
    And flowering weeds of poetry
    That are loved all the more
    Because they are so common

    But there are carols
    That carry phrases
    Of the haunting music
    Of the other world
    A music wild and dangerous
    As a prophet's message

    Or the fresh truth of children
    Who though they come to us
    From our own bodies

    Are altogether new
    With their small limbs
    And birdlike voices

    They look at us
    With their clear eyes
    And ask the piercing questions
    God alone can answer.

    "Noël" by Anne Porter

    merry xmas, dmf

  2. Let's watch the potty mouth and think of the children, dammit.