So I sit here listening to Great Big Sea's "Come & I Will Sing You". The band claimed it's not a Christmas song, since there's many similar counting songs from many Euro cultures that aren't tied to the Winter holidays, but it's hard to separate such songs from Christmas, thanks to the ubiquitous "12 Days". … Continue reading On Gifts, Music, & The Season
Category: memories
Merry Fuckin’ Christmas.
So this Christmas, I'm learning exactly what I mean to my family. Absolutely nothing. Last year, there were no calls, no invites, nothing, not for Thanksgiving, Christmas, nor for New Years. Normally they at least call; normally the call is asking if we're coming down, what our plans are. Last year, I'd sent my usual … Continue reading Merry Fuckin’ Christmas.
Yet more abusive fuckery
So. There's been no calls from my parents or sisters at all for Thanksgiving: no invitations to come down, no calls to say "Happy whatever" -- in the past, they've usually been the ones to call, since they get free long distance via their cells phones. It's their house, their meal, they issue the invites. … Continue reading Yet more abusive fuckery
Smoky Mountain Memories Pt 2
(another letter from the same "family vacation" as the last post). Aug 2, 1997, Dear Husband: So yesterday Dad drove us out to Newfound Gap, a big tourist spot because -- I kid you not -- of a border sign in the parking lot that says "Tennessee" on one side and "North Carolina" on the … Continue reading Smoky Mountain Memories Pt 2
Shitty day
So we visited Husband's side of the family for Christmas a few years back. His aunt lives by herself in the Ohio Valley; every time we've gone there, we're usually the only visitors -- his cousins might drop by for a bit, but that's it. That year, though, his sister (my sister in law, aka … Continue reading Shitty day
Of the Stupid Cupid thing and Life…
So yesterday, Brett and I decided to go to the Academy of Sciences; we hopped the F-Market Muni, but got side-tracked at the Port SF Ferry building -- farmer's market, art festival, tons of people. We wander through the arts side, stopping to listen to a lanky, scruffy black guy beating out infectious rhythms on … Continue reading Of the Stupid Cupid thing and Life…
Across The Shadows 
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