For the past week I have sat down on numerous occasions to write some Christmas epistle, some thought provoking essay or lyrical diddy on the heart and passion of the season. And there was so much I wanted to write about... But this time of year always brings such intense and conflicting emotions for me, it's hard to straighten things out. It's rather like one of those Mensa brain puzzles. The longer you stare at it the more confused you become and yet all the more desperate to figure it out. It's a frustrating and nakedly paralyzing experience, especially for one so mentally introverted. But I've frantically clawed, picked and scratched at my disconcerting enigmas far too long. Self-autopsies can never be very informative or rewarding experiences... I think I'll feed the haunting spectres of my puzzling and unfinished thoughts with a little cider, and give them rest amidst the tireless pirouettes of sugar plum faries... Drink and sleep are amazing salves to the wounds of frustration and confusion.

Comments