P_OPAGANDA

29.11.08

♫: cut copy - unforgettable season

A Worm-to-Tart talk

EJ: where are you now?!
PT: i'm at holland vvv.
EJ: wah... working uh? so enterprising man...
PT: enter my ass la. (pause) I MEAN ENTERPRISING MY ASS.
EJ & PT: HA HA HA HA HA.

Today was the termination of the exercise, and you know what that heralds... I'm gonna get my LIFE back. Sevenfolds. Today Van and I got drunk on ice cream for real. Today is just the start.

Anyway, smelled or heard it in the air yet? December! Man, I'm bloody stoked. My favourite time of the year. Favourite holiday of all. I want my favourite people and favourite places and favourite things and favourite days. All conjugated into one nauseating agglutinated mass of sappy sappy happyness force crammed into the claustrophobic idea of Bliss in my head.

Decembers, though, always had some kind of effect on me; a reclusive cogitation, being markedly aware of the blessings that He had flooded upon me for the other 11 months. Paganistic institution or not, it is the only time of the year when His name is gloriously sprayed across windows, walls, shopping bags and starbucks coffee cups. And off their tongues they say His name almost everywhere without being cognizant of it.

Contrarily, as far as festive platitudes go, I'm all for this one in the spirit of Thanksgiving. Better than to hide behind the banners of cliche and hypocrisy, even if it takes the end of the year to tie up loose ends, dissolve quagmires of acrimony and take back the churlish scathing that may have happened in the course of the rest of the year.

As the saying of St. Sean explicitly espouses:

Don't just say it out, HUG it out.

And take the saintly adage with you for your prepreprechristmas celebrations - squeeze hug all that sincerity juice out of each other.

Smashing weekend, everybody.

\\

Meanwhile I could do with some cooing to cut copy. These melbournians chase me from every angle of my soul.

Listen to the voice that says
alright
This is start and not the end
tonight

/3:15 AM