It is Christmas time and agreeably it has become about gifting, regifting and black Fridays. So the expections are more about the big tickets like items, a diamond ring or a brand new and expensive car.
And then the neighbors pining through a kitchen window, about that car. But we know that that is not the feeling we wish.
It is not even the Christmas classics but the cookies, the fudge, mistle-toe and Holly. And it is about ….. the stocking. Not much fits in it, but it’s relatively small size, belies, its intrinsic value. The handmade ornaments, made of construction paper. It IS all about the intrinsicness of childhood, free of spending money on things, you can do without and a lot of which, are returned. Like regifted fruitcake and leftover meals.
Due to a loss of the stocking, a large space is left and then it becomes adult recreation that fulfills the void left by wrapping paper and bills that make matters worse.
There are incontributibutable tales, of years of real peace, that continues and that manifests itself in an acceptable drama and a welcoming catharsis, that even Christmas cannot fufill.
Rather than an escape, but an admix of pleasure and release. A moment or moments, that seem to outsiders as bizzare and even sociopathic.
Is there anything more sociopathic than Black Friday, that can be done online? So, I muse over muses like in Xanadu, the rekindling of escape and solicitude, giving and receiving the very need that seems to slip through our fingers.
The silk of sin and pleasureable moods never leaves and the fulfilment, exotic to a fault, but that is the pleasure and romance one needs. Total abandonment and reclusive release. The corporal silk of the sensitivity of the skin and the control over it. Never to subsist, but growing in confidence.