I offer my book “Sane New World” as an antidote to Christmas for those of us who don’t feel jolly, and I suspect there are far more people out there who won’t admit to it and smear on a cheery face. ‘Tis not a season to be jolly,’ tis a season to have a nervous breakdown from buying gifts in a stampede of The Crazed; catching the madness like a virus from everyone out there so you end up buying things no one will ever want, like a pitchfork.
It’s an alternative to Christmas book for those of us who hold onto our sanity for dear life at this most insane day of the year. Sending Christmas cards to people who do not send you one back is a one-way ticket to a mood disorder. There you are preparing the turkey, broken and bitter, stuffing stuff into some bird’s ass as you watch your life go by and no one will even remember that you stuffed it. You end up so out of it you don’t know if you’re stuffing the turkey or your brother-in-law. And to make things worse, you know you’re slaving over something that will go in one end and out the other.
There is nothing more upsetting then buying someone a cashmere scarf and getting a candle. That is what you mean to them- a candle – a social leper. I usually wrap up the gifts each person gave me the year before with a card that says’ same to you’. When you buy presents you try to pick a price based on how much someone means to you and that always changes moment-to-moment. And then there are the people you need favours from. I always send a big gift to my banker hoping it will stop him ripping me off for the coming year. The worst is counting down on New Years Eve to ‘1’ and not feeling that erection of exhilaration like everyone else when the fireworks go off; that’s when I know to go into my closet and not come out till February. I think I’ve finally cracked it now I go far away each Christmas and come back looking surprised saying “Oh did I miss something? Sorry.”
It’s an alternative to Christmas book for those of us who hold onto our sanity for dear life at this most insane day of the year. Sending Christmas cards to people who do not send you one back is a one-way ticket to a mood disorder. There you are preparing the turkey, broken and bitter, stuffing stuff into some bird’s ass as you watch your life go by and no one will even remember that you stuffed it. You end up so out of it you don’t know if you’re stuffing the turkey or your brother-in-law. And to make things worse, you know you’re slaving over something that will go in one end and out the other.
There is nothing more upsetting then buying someone a cashmere scarf and getting a candle. That is what you mean to them- a candle – a social leper. I usually wrap up the gifts each person gave me the year before with a card that says’ same to you’. When you buy presents you try to pick a price based on how much someone means to you and that always changes moment-to-moment. And then there are the people you need favours from. I always send a big gift to my banker hoping it will stop him ripping me off for the coming year. The worst is counting down on New Years Eve to ‘1’ and not feeling that erection of exhilaration like everyone else when the fireworks go off; that’s when I know to go into my closet and not come out till February. I think I’ve finally cracked it now I go far away each Christmas and come back looking surprised saying “Oh did I miss something? Sorry.”
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