And so this is Christmas.

Sincerely, I hope you had a marvelous Christmas.

Chances are, though, you spent this holy day revisiting all the traditional family arguments, adding a few new ones, trying and perhaps failing to keep your temper in check.

I’ve been there and done that enough to last a lifetime, so instead I stayed in my room and reveled in the solitude. I read and wrote, ate some prunes and two microwaved egg sandwiches, read some more, listened to the Rolling Stones, washed the dishes, took out some trash that was smelling funky, killed a roach on the wall, fed the roach in a jar, dropped a massive prune-lubricated dump, blew soap bubbles out the window, read more, wrote a little, listened to Aaron Copeland, and thought about doing the laundry but didn’t.

Other things I didn’t do include calling my family, or thinking much about Christmas, or going anywhere, doing anything, seeing anyone, wrapping anything, unwrapping anything, or making chit-chat with anyone. It occurs to me now that I haven't said a word to anyone all day except myself.

Now there’s one more paragraph in me, and after that I’m going to sleep.

And so this is Christmas, but it was just a typical day in my room at the rez hotel. Let there be no misunderstanding, though: This was the best of all possible Xmases, at least for me. I gave myself a marvelous gift — the gift of giving up on going home for the holidays.

 From Pathetic Life #7
Sunday, December 25, 1994

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

Pathetic Life 

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  1. I hope you were (are) really happy Doug, but this sure reads sad.

    1. I'm gonna be a dick, and speak for Doug. But it goes for me as well.

      It's only sad when viewed through the lens of having family you like. I don't mean LOVE, I mean LIKE. I love my family, but don't like them. I don't want to spend one second with them.

      Also, Doug and I are introverts. We like our solitude. A great day is one where he is alone and does whathe wants. That might involve going out for errands and seeing people, or it might mean staying home and watching seven movies with the blinds drawn.

      If it's what he wants to do, it's a great day.

    2. You saying "I'm gonna be a dick" is a redundancy, like "ATM machine." But I disagree with nothing you've said here.

    3. Better punch my PIN number into the ATM machine...


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