Saturday, December 26, 2015

Boxing Day

My Christmas season could not have been a better blend of low key, low stress, sophisticated fun.  It was simple and exquisite.  My mother made a ham and fixings which was a nice respite from turkey and dressing, and we had champagne which she said "just a little" to but which she drank like a pro.  And we had a beautiful bottle of wine with dinner, then an afternoon nap with "A Christmas Story" playing in the background.  I doubt that I will ever watch that again, but it was good for sleeping.  We stayed until dusk, and then Ili and I went back to my house where we poured cocktails and then remembered the full moon.  We walked to the lake and sat on a bench and watched it come up over the treetops big and yellow and wondrous, a comfortable breeze blowing across the lake.

And that was the end of Christmas.

And so now it is Happy Boxing Day/St. Stephen's Day, a day for helping the poor.  Retail stores are doing just that with 60% off sales.  Time to buy.

I shouldn't say that.  I don't wish to be crass.  I have become a gentler person of late.  Although I've yet to play cards, it is a life to be desired.  I rebelled against the old world.  Pinochle is my rebellion against the new.  Where once there was too much sameness, there is too much weirdness now.  Hunter S. Thompson said that it never got weird enough for him.  Me--I've become satiated with it, though I must say, much of it seems a predictable weirdness that passes itself off for something else.

Last night, searching for some nighttime viewing, I looked for "Red Dust," "Morocco," and "Desire" on all the channels and streaming devices that I have--Netflix, Hulu, and even Amazon which I would have subscribed to if these had been available.  Nope.  Nowhere.  Nothing.  Not even for pay on iTunes.  We are getting screwed, my friends.  Why are these things not available?

I found something I had never seen before on Hulu, though, the Bulldog Drummond series from 1939.  We watched half of the first one.  It was almost interesting in some ways, but not enough.  It seems I will have to go back to DVDs if I want to watch the things I often want to see.  I can't even find "La Dolce Vita"!

Today I want to finish emptying the studio.  It is bothering me, and I want to get it done.  My buddy will come with his pickup truck so that I can make one last haul.  I think the True Artist behind my studio is going to buy the big printer.  And then it will be over and done.  And then. . . maybe, just maybe. . . I will feel like picking up a camera again.

So now we must begin to live anew with new winter feelings that replace the coziness of autumn.  Our vision sharpens and we look for fresh beauty as the days lengthen.  I will start now.

As will you.

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