As I sit on the 349 heading downtown on a brisk morning, I find myself asking myself some questions and getting precaffeinated answers. My brain does not work so badly in the morning; rather it fires off different axon trails that are often better left unused. Occasionally though it makes me write about fast and the furious. I apologize for this.
I woke up to children singing the chorus of 'So this is Christmas'. In my brain. Repeatedly. Their devilry hypnotized me into deciding to buy presents. Milady and I chose to go no gifts this year. We are pretty skint after we chose to go on vacation for three weeks in South Africa. We chose well because it was a fantastic vacation but now, with less than 24 hours to Xmas morning, I am terrified of no presents. The silence associated with no ripping wrapping paper, no heartfelt thank yous or squeals of excitement. The inactivity as no one scrambles to find more presents from hidden recesses or to announce which bag is for collecting trash. The lack of shit. The lack of a perfect gift. The lack of a moment. When will I get my moment? Bah humbug? More like, dammit, I really screwed the pooch on this one.
So I panicked. I got showered,dressed and headed off to Hot Tracks. Buying for Nikki is somewhat easy. She loves stationery. She thinks pens and notebooks are groovy. I think she's groovy ipso facto, stationery are let through my velvet rope. I can afford stationery. I'm not THAT broke. My business is doing quite well considering I'm selling food during xmas in a country where that means more pot luck dinners than you can shake a stick at. But now the heart flutters as I realize I'M BEING A TERRIBLE BOYFRIEND. She was working under the assumption of no gifts and she's getting these things from me. I'm Neville Chamberlain and I've made Santa into hitler. Wait, in that analogy, am I Hitler? Oh G-d that's not good.
But now I'm locked into this process. If I come home without presents, milady will know I went out on Xmas eve morning and CAME HOME WITH NO GIFTS. Imagine as a child your dad going into a toy store as you waited outside, licking an ice cream. You wait ten minutes and then he comes out with nothing. You now hate your dad a little, right? Oh dear. I'm a deadbeat dad. To my girlfriend. On Xmas.
The bus has been playing Xmas songs. The eternal hellfire repetition of 'Feliz Navidad'. The mournful sound of a saxophone instrumental version of 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas'. At least it is better than a restaurant I frequent. They have a Xmas Playlist consisting of songs, of the variety done by cover RnB singers who fly all over the vocal spectrum in lieu if being able to hold one note for any appreciable amounts of time. Bah humbug.
People are not going Xmas shopping. This is Korea. People go to work dammit. People to to school and learn shit! They do not look concerned about presents at all. I wish I could lean over to the woman next to me and ask 'What would you like for Christmas?' I'm fairly sure she'd have a palpitation. I look over at her an smile. It was meant to convey 'don't worry, I'm not going to freak you out.' It failed in its conveyance. She got up and moved to a new seat. I am alone in my suffering. My bus has arrived. What do I do? What can I do?
Ah Xmas. Your emotional rollercoaster has once more started its inexorable journey. The feelings are back. The sickness in the pit of my stomach. The sweaty palms. The frantic eye tic. All symptoms that Xmas has arrived.
Merry Xmas. Jesus, who'd go through all this, eh?
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