Here’s hoping that of all the days on the calendar, this one finally convinces you to sweat the details. Yes, because when you start sweating, you start swearing. And when you start swearing, you start throwing shit away. Like . . those details.
Here’s hoping . . .
The glow of a Christmas tree chases the thrill of a little kid right back into you . . .
You have a dream to tow along, whatever that dream may be. Because the great thing about dreams is that they don’t carry a price tag. All they ask for is the right amount of soul and belief- otherwise known as the only things worth having . . .
You still believe in Santa . . .
You tell someone you love them. Anyone, at any time. And if you don’t have someone to tell it to? Find someone, like, right now. Go out to any place open and thank the person for being on the job and then tell them, just like this . . ‘I love you’. Assure them you’re not carrying a firearm and you mean them no harm. But why not do it? They might need to hear it . . .
Smell pine. It’s sensational, better even . . .
Pray for snow. Enough to make it pretty, and then some more. Fuck it, what are we saving blizzards for when global warming is taking everything with it? . . .
Watch a movie that keeps on feeling like the first time, as if Lou Gramm is standing outside your window and he’s singing Feels like the First Time . . .
*If Lou Gramm is standing outside your window? Call 911. Forget the Christmas Spirit and just call 911 . . .
Love. Wholly and lots and always. Love is the only thing you’re ever gonna own that will always appreciate in value . . .
So that’s it. I warned you against expecting too much of this post. Okay, I didn’t warn you about that . . but I did warn you about the whole Lou Gramm thing. And that counts just the same. Right?
Peeps. Keep the time simple and true, as it should be kept. And I hope when you get to wherever you’re going? That you’re home.
God bless, and Merry Christmas.