Why I hate December and I ask for just one little thing: running naked downtown

When I think about Xmas, I think about smashing things (who doesn’t). Actually, this isn’t from the years of doing retail and working in a bookstore and getting the 16th person that day to ask, “I’m looking for a book for my father, he read it 20 years ago and really liked it….it’s yellow.” Of course it is.

Xmas is the North American reenactment of high school where there are “cool” people who have like, functional families and friends and the rest of us (losers, loners and geeks). Because though the Christians talk about Xmas being a Christian holiday based on love, hope and non-exclusivity; I’ve never noticed many Christians going out of the way to seek out the lonely, the awkward, the solitary as they hurry between their church and their family friends. Being raised in a faith/cult that didn’t keep anything at Christmas at least we could get together and laugh at how everyone was so obsessed with Christmas before going back to memorizing holy text and fasting.

So, yeah, all I notice this month is people becoming unavailable, people in a hurry and people engaged in something that I’m not invited to. Though when we were in the UK and I DID belong to a church I did played Carols with the double bass one year but refused to participate in any reading that said Christ was born December 25th (because he wasn’t – sorry, Christians just picked the most popular day and made it their own). Last year I kept Saturnalia, a tribute to Saturn where one gives gifts based on how much another person has affected your life during the year – a sort of payment of debts as judged by the God Saturn, and then you serve those who would serve you and light candles. A nice Roman holiday which ALSO just happens to be on December 25th. But since everyone gave me the, “You’re keeping what? No, don’t give me that, it might have goat’s blood in it” look, I am not keeping Saturnalia this year.

Of course, with Linda going to a Christmas work related party about every day this week just helped with the muttering over and over; “They’re not just excluding you, the guy who is always drunk and pees behind the 7-11 probably didn’t get invited too.” So I kind of hate December. And you may have noticed I wasn’t particularly cheery yesterday; I decided NOT to kill myself but it was a bit of a close vote (with two of my personalities abstaining).

It just seems like my life is on a stream where everything gets reset back a year, nothing nice happens, and I sort of drift out of space and time with these odd home care people who float in and out of my alternate reality. One worker has managed to destroy a dish, glass, bowl, etc each day. I didn’t even know you could break a plastic spatula? Then there was the care worker who saw my squirrel video and asked, “The wings, are they yours or are they ones you put on?”

I stared for a minute and said, “I bought the wings after Halloween, there is a harness I put on.”

“Oh,” she said (she was in her 40’s from an Asian country), “So you put them on, they aren’t yours.”

“No, I don’t have wings.”

“Okay. Nice.”

I became somewhat nervous that a home care woman who goes around wondering if the person she is caring for has ACTUAL wings as part of her body can tell say…the difference between my lunch and industrial cleaner? That does rate up there as one of the more unusual questions I’ve been asked.

Then there were the two different care workers who came two evenings this week, and I had problems holding things and problems finding words and talking and I said, “I don’t know if they put it in my file…” And both women got this “Yes, it is SO sad” sober look on their face like when you tell someone you just backed over their pet and said in this sad tone, “I’ve seen the file.” Pause “You just take all the time you need, honey.”

Hell, what exactly is IN that file that makes care workers for people who are sick and dying so sad? Because the only thing I can think is “Patient no longer able to masturbate or orgasm” and that is just a damn lie!

So between the doctors, the home care workers and the general exclusion of Xmas cheer I am in a foul mood. I opened the local paper and there was a full page of article on a woman with cancer who is (wait for it) “doing everything normal this year.” It seems that having cancer and decorating a tree is worth a full page article in the “heroic and plucky” vein. One of those, “even with her adversity nothing can keep this woman down” crap pieces. Okay, fine, if that is what they want? Last year? I was in training, I was hitting guys in the groin with a sword at high speed (I was training in Epee, not male groin hitting by the way). Um, I was giving the bird to a couple guys who would make lewd comments about me and my body near the park. Is that enough or do I need to mention I would point my butt and rub my tight fitting breeches after making a point on a guy during epee practice or sometimes spank myself with the flat of the sword while flicking my tongue in and out. Think if I get some shots of myself doing that downtown in Victoria I might get my own full page article on plucky?

Oh, I gave instructions this week to a home care worker on how to cut yourself and end up with very small scars (you get german blades and sharpen them to a few atoms thick). And she was I think the 12th or 13th home care worker to tell me “I don’t how you can live like this” or the many variations; “If I was in the pain you are, I’d kill myself.”; “I couldn’t take being like you are.”, etc. Kind of a mixed message from a home care worker who doesn’t want me to cut myself.

I want to DO, I want to rise again. Isn’t there a line of some white drug I can snort which will make me an AB terminator for a day – there always seemed to be great drugs in my high school films against drug use. Then you go back and find that the girl who threw off eight police officers before jumping off a building was on a mix of cocaine and morphine. “The fuck she was!” is all I can say, I take a lighter form of amphetamines for medicinal use and an opiate and I can’t outwrestle a particularly heavy teddy bear. Give me the stuff where I get to run naked through the streets throwing police to the ground. That’s the kind of Xmas spirit I have in me right now (I mean, if I am going to fantasize about running as a reality, why not fantasize about running naked AND throwing guys around).

Someone finally uploaded my creamy skinned goth, kink black haired, black gloved beauty from the song Overload, which is all about overloading and destroying stuff; in this case, an entire hotel room while wearing the hottest red lipstick, three inch heeled black pumps and stockings. YES! Destroy that vase. Yes, throw out the man, tell the front desk to send up a female to have sex with. Yes, not going to take it anymore, and that TV was just asking to have a fire extinguisher thrown through it. Lovely. You can guess where I will be on December 24th – that’s right, in the Empress Hotel.....under an assumed name, because they won’t EVER be able to figure out which female in a wheelchair reenacted this video in their suite.