If He's Here, Who's Running Hell?

If that's what you demand, then that's what I'll deliver.

Christmas is ending. This is the first time I have ever seen Christmas Day finish in a house that is empty except for me. I think it's an appropriate way to cap off this wretched year. But I'm not lonely, per se. It is amazing how far you come, or recede, in the space of a year. I lost everything dear to me, including myself, this year. I'm still clawing my way off of rock-bottom. Easy does it, Soldier. Easy does it.

I had a nice Christmas overall. A lovely morning, a nice mid-day sleep, time with whanau in the afternoon, and a brilliant walk along the lake with the dogs. That will always be my stomping ground, no matter how far the Airport Authorities want to encroach on our land. I'll be exploring along that lake till the day I die. Maybe there's a message there, for those who read between the lines more deftly than others. The dark thoughts before I sleep are coming back somewhat, but I'm keeping them at bay. Strictly speaking, they shouldn't be anywhere near this head of mine, but we live with our faults. Or in spite of them, I guess, in this case.

Poems and songs and Family Guy have eased the anxiety that crept up on me in the late afternoon. Also Freckle. This whole thing is becoming a tribute to you, you wicked little thing. Gee Whizz. But there's no proof that you're on my mind. None whatsoever.

So, we come to the end of the first post on a Christmas Day. My 23rd. The loneliest, by a country mile, though I don't feel despairingly alone. Maybe I have finally become inured to feeling cut off from the world. But let's not get morbid. Let's get funky.

Would you choose presents or company on Christmas Day?