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| The author/publisher, Dane F. Baylis |
TIS' THE F***ING SEASON, ALRIGHT!
OR
KEEP ACTING OUT, IT FEEDS THE CREATIVE MACHINE SO MANY GREAT SCENES AND IDEAS!
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From murder suicides in the driveways of suburban cul-de-sacs to frustrated mothers slapping the snot out of some child caught up in a tantrum of the "I want it all" mentality the boob-tube sells all year long, but especially aiming at those pre-adolescent sensibilities during the high holidays. I'm schizophrenic about the human race as it is but it becomes acute from just before Halloween to slightly past Saint Valentine's Day. I do love that so much of the suppressed crazy gets laid bare. But I'm also scared to death that some over stressed Mommy or Daddy might just pull out that large caliber, high capacity play thing from last year's consumer binge and start busting caps in the crowd.
Which is why I spend most of my time away from the crowds. That and the fact that the human herd can get so dense, (physically and emotionally) that it becomes difficult to really focus on any individual. And there is really so much to focus on!
The glazed eyes of shopper overload, the harried, snappish words exchanged over a cell phone trying to determine if Bob at the mate's office is an X or XX when it comes to Hawaiian print shirts. The smell of red wine on a sweet young thing's breath at 10 AM as she passes me in the line at some tragedy to fast food that I only stopped to piss in and recharge my rattled nerves with more black coffee. The stupid elf hats, or shoes, (I'm not kidding, I saw a pair walking around in public today). The people packed into whatever retail outlet mall - screaming at the college graduate who took the customer service job because it was all that was available after receiving his/her diploma, demanding discounts because of hanging thread or a crumpled package. Husbands, or ex-husbands, wandering aimless and confused through supermarket aisles looking for that ingredient the wife sent them for, or planning their first solo party since they got divorced. The shopping carts more full of cheap booze and dubious wine than actual comestibles. You can see the drunken Christmas night tirade brewing in that one.
Sorry, I am just not into the forced goodwill of the whole trite circus. My idea of Christmas cheer is a visit or two with other malcontents and hermits. The type who don't want to sing Carols or drag out all the phony memories generated by Hollywood. Maybe a little something gets exchanged. A book, a bottle, a carton of smokes, (Hey, just because I don't partake anymore doesn't mean I'm into denying someone else their addiction. Fuck, at least it's sincere!), or just the few moments of real connection with a pal on the streets who I haven't seen in a while. And while we're exchanging a same sex or heterosexual embrace in good fellowship, I'll be patting them down for the piece they might be carrying. Let's face it, everyone gets a little nutty this time of year.
Ho, ho, screw it!
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Meanwhile...live, love, write.
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