I don’t know what this means: last night I was sitting at my desk listening to the Vince Guaraldi Trio’s A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack—mostly because it’s a nice, easy time, whether it’s Christmas or not—and when I got to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” I felt pretty good. It was a clump-in-the-back-of-your-throat sort of feeling. It surprised me a whole lot.
It reminded me of Christmas at my grandmother’s house, when it was late and I was alone and the only lights on were the ones wrapped around the wooden fence on the porch. I would sit there on the couch and just stare at the things and didn’t have to think about anything and no one bothered me. I guess that’s when I still had any reverence for the day—back before it was destroyed by this god damn stupid world.
Weird. What do I do with this information? I haven’t the slightest idea. Maybe I’ll just hang out with it for a while until it disappears.