Sunday, December 25, 2011

The spirit of Christmas

I think I've met the real spirit of Christmas.

25-12 I woke up around 11am, drank what was left in a cooler of a warm disgusting screwdriver. My mission was finding cigarettes, which I've gotten run off last night. Didn't need stretching or washing my face, just my jeans, shoes and huge old sunglasses, which I despised but I'm getting fond of. The tattered big sweater I sleep on, was alright, even when it's 24° outside.

Rewind a bit, yesterday was the shit!

Alright, it wasn't.

It was just the normal "eating too much, drinking too much", gathering with relatives, receiving gifts with a big smile, even when you're thinking "what's wrong with you?". All the good stuff.

Despite the fact I drank too many screwdrivers and beers to keep the count, for around 12 hours; I didn't get shitfaced, didn't lose coordination, didn't feel stupid or willing to talk too much. Instead I was feeling sleepy the whole day, but my mind was crystal clear. Everything felt like a lucid dream, where I couldn't fly or spawn people out of the blue, to fuck them senseless.

Forward today again. I don't usually get out on 25th December, the hangovers don't let me move, except for convulsions followed by a stream of half digested food and rancid ethylic smell. Not today, not a trace of headache or physical discomfort. This is still surprising to me, I wonder if I have reached a new tolerance level.

I hadn't still hit the road, just the building stairs outside the apartment, when I found the first sign of "celebration": a puddle of vomit, containing something that looked like carrots and a yellow substance. I avoided it as I could, in my "just awoken" trance, and down I went. Some neighbors, I didn't recognize (due the fact I was wearing the shades - and probably due the fact I don't give a fuck about my neighbors), were talking in the main entrance, held the door for me and one of them spurred something like "zombie".

- Why yes sir. Good morning and braaains.

The street had the usual dirty look, but as I kept walking I noticed more than dog shit, random crap and "human" waste; a massive hole in the pavement, broken glass on the bus stop, mountains of destroyed wrapping paper, empty bottles, empty boxes, traces of firecrackers. - At least I didn't see a bloated corpse, these persons sure know how to party.

My usual store was closed, I kept walking, trying to find another place to buy my poison of choice. I got a rather interesting companion, a big stray dog. I usually scare them away, but this one looked too big and hungry, to play the old trick with. He kept following me, wagging the tail, just ignoring me to stop at the overflowed garbage cans.

Next store, closed too. Next store, open, didn't have marlboro cigs. Fuck my life.

I was near a closed mall, when some particular sound caught my attention: "Hallelujah! Praise God! HE saves! HE saves!" - a woman was whining. Filling the environment with distorted echoes of fainting madness.

I got into some part of the town I just never go to, almost instinctively escaping from the apocalyptic sounds. The street was empty, and I swear I saw Santa Claus, just standing there. Tall fat dirty fella, wearing a red cap, and tight rags. He had two big black plastic bags full of something... perhaps gifts he hadn't delivered? He seemed bothered and wasted. - Ho ho ho, do you have Marlboro in there? - I thought, didn't tell.

Eventually I completed my mission successfully. Not Marlboro, just Lucky Strike, eh, better than nothing. But I got more than that. I got to experience the real spirit of this time of the year. The self-destruction, the trash, the puke and desperation, left behind mindless consumerism and void traditions.


  1. Remember when I called you "the best writer we'll never read"?

    I wasn't saying it just to make a conversation.

  2. That's flattering coming from you. NO SARCASM, I SWEAR.

    I'm sort of retaking it. Since painting is now "a job", I need some hobby. Something to do out of pure pleasure and not pressure, heh.