Season of Loose

As of now, I have no idea what to say.

This is the beginning of the season where we tend to forget about tight places--where we seem to be collectively allowed to be in a bubble for about a month and pretend we are rich in all ways.

We are loose this month, aren't we?  And open and giving?  Right?

We have license to be generous--and act like we have more than we do?

Am I right?

But to revert to tight, I have a strict policy about not playing any Christmas music 'til December 1st--and it's been annoying to walk into shops and hear it--but because I am on the cusp on this season and because I have to post SOMETHING decent tonight, I'm going go loose and give you one of my favorite seasonal tunes.

My favorite Christmas song is a song that never gets played (by a band in which two of the three members happen to be Mormon). Go ahead: sing.  Be loud!

Low

I'm in awe of Lara's day and her weather, the fact that she had snow while here it was over 50 degrees and sunny and almost too warm for tights. I'm wondering how she found time to write on a Saturday. My Saturday's have been mostly cantankerous. Today, after packing away all of the holiday decorations, I dragged our Xmas tree by three bungee cords about ten blocks to Tompkins Square Park for Mulchfest. S carried the wreaths which we would also mulch. It was good to get out of our apartment, which often feels so small and dark, but granted not as small, dark and full as this. (Although this is where I live and what I live in--in all senses, a tight place)

Mostly, I am in pain from yesterday's accident, have a low-level migraine, and am feeling very mortal.

When I started this blog nearly a week ago, I thought if I could keep conscious of the moments in my days I could keep myself from feeling cantankerous or negative. I didn't think about the fact that some days I would forget to be conscious.

I remembered today how easy that is.

Tights: Thin and black. Sat in the park after contributing my tree to the mulch pile, to cheer myself I read fantastical fiction.