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 |  Fucking xmas, eh? Another one. We all have better shit to do and other things to worry about, but here it is again stealing all the oxygen and taking up time and money we don't have to spare. I like the eating parts of xmas and the lying in bed watching shit bits, but everything else about it can die in a fire as far as I'm concerned. |
Décor-wise, we generally hack a bit off a feral Pinus radiata, stick it in a bucket and asphyxiate it in daggy 20 year old tinsel. Monterey pines suck as xmas trees because of their droopiness and sparse branch arrangement but they're free, so whatever. No presents this year. We are having a stuffed turkey and a profuse selection of minor numminess because fupas don't grow themselves.
| The smell of xmas is Lilium regale down here in NZ; its coiling sunlit amber is entirely inapposite and yet somehow so poignant and endlessly reassuring, like a childhood rhyme repeated once a year. I hope the next year brings better things. New friends. More and better words. Novel sentiments. All the flowers. We'll be posting erratically over christmas, depending on our DIY schedule as much as anything. Talk to you soon. |  |
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