Pah rum pah pum pum.

Another Christmas, this one 2005.

I’m in my parents’ basement watching VH1 at 1:10 in the morning, unwinding after having spent Christmas Eve eating & drinking with the part of my family that lives within semi-drunk driving distance.  It was a ridiculously good time, so much so that I’m wondering why this was the first time we’ve done this.  Again next year, to be sure.

Last night over dinner with my immediate family, I mentioned that I’ve been talking to Lauren again, and that there’s a remote chance that I may see her while she’s in the States.  My mother responded by asking: "Why is she still talking to you?"  A good question, to be sure, although it doesn’t seem to be an issue with Lauren.  I occasionally find myself wishing that it was an issue, if only for what it would indicate, which is I don’t know what.  I am talking to her because I feel like maybe my impulsive and oft-childish self fucked up, in spite of the fact that I realize we can’t be together.

Ouch, my stupid head–shut up, it’s Christmas.

I think about what a ridiculous mess I am, and then I realize what ridiculous messes we all are.  Relativity is some down-home shit.

I gotsa bed now–must get up early for Christmas morning, and all that.  It is pseudo-ironic and strangely depressing that as we get older, the later we want to get up on Christmas morning.  I could sleep till noon, truth be told. . . not that I want to, just that I could.  Twenty years ago, not a chance.

I remain confused, obviously. 

Pah rum pah pum pum.

1 comment to Pah rum pah pum pum.

  • Peter Parker

    Is ur name Danny Mee?

    If so, you have to reply…I have the same pain!!!! HEHE

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