Heart-Stopping Holiday Shopping In the New Year.
I regret to say, that a beautiful new calendar is the kind of gift you will buy for a person when you want them to know that you care, but secretly you wish you didn't.
You know what I'm talking about.
Pain, once your lovely calendar -with it's pretty pictures and hokey inspiartional captions- is in the possession of that person and out of your view, will skip merrily to and fro' and play hopscotch along sidewalks ever in the perifery of your vision like a second guess. Will lick teaseingly around the edges of your heart, and make you sigh for no particular reason when looking out windows.
This gift is a Trojan horse. It's casualness, it's practicality, merely a sad disguise for it's true effect: this gift is your stupid inner child desparately, pathetically, clutching -with white knuckles- the big, gawdy, insideous teddy bear of foolish devotion. Infact, his stuffing is beginning to bulge out at one seam like a goiter.
This seemingly simple gift is a BIG commitment. For the next FUCKING YEAR, you will be tortured by selfish curriosities about the calendar. You will first wonder what's being marked in it: Approaching family events? Lame or unanxiously awaited events that must be written down lest they will happily be forgotten, like a cousin's french horn recital or a dentist appointment? Important... dates?
And then, sure enough, you will be raveged with even crueler, more painful curriosities. Does this person think of you now, everyday?? You did give them their very CALENDAR, afterall. You practically said, clear as day, I WANT YOU TO THINK OF ME, EVERY DAY, FOR THE NEXT WHOLE YEAR. WHEN YOU MAKE PLANS, WHEN YOU COUNT DAYS UNTIL, WHEN YOU LOOK AT SOMETHING FAMILIAR THAT MAPS THE PATHS YOUR LIFE WILL TAKE FOR MONTHS TO COME, I WANT YOU TO THINK OF ME. Is the person you love USING your carefully-picked-out calendar? Does it lay unopened, uncherrished, under stacks of books and scattered papers on their desk? Has this person forgotten what you gave them in hopes that they'd be better able to remember?! Have they... re-gifted??
And worst of all, the aching knowledge that even if you could believe against so many tides that this person DOES love your gorgeous calendar as you wished they loved you... Once the year is up, all that maniacal hugging is rendered vain. The teddy bear dissapears into heart-pulverizingly thin air: little button-eyes, protruding goiter stuffing, and all.
By this time next new year, your love will be gifted with a new calendar. Gorgeous, freshly blank, and nauseatingly inspirational.
From someone else.
~*~
And speaking of Trojan horses... "Trojan"..... incredibly bad brand name for condoms, or what? What were they THINKING?
The other band I'm in, Bad Folk:
Tonight at the Way Out Club
With the Good Griefs.
You know what I'm talking about.
Pain, once your lovely calendar -with it's pretty pictures and hokey inspiartional captions- is in the possession of that person and out of your view, will skip merrily to and fro' and play hopscotch along sidewalks ever in the perifery of your vision like a second guess. Will lick teaseingly around the edges of your heart, and make you sigh for no particular reason when looking out windows.
This gift is a Trojan horse. It's casualness, it's practicality, merely a sad disguise for it's true effect: this gift is your stupid inner child desparately, pathetically, clutching -with white knuckles- the big, gawdy, insideous teddy bear of foolish devotion. Infact, his stuffing is beginning to bulge out at one seam like a goiter.
This seemingly simple gift is a BIG commitment. For the next FUCKING YEAR, you will be tortured by selfish curriosities about the calendar. You will first wonder what's being marked in it: Approaching family events? Lame or unanxiously awaited events that must be written down lest they will happily be forgotten, like a cousin's french horn recital or a dentist appointment? Important... dates?
And then, sure enough, you will be raveged with even crueler, more painful curriosities. Does this person think of you now, everyday?? You did give them their very CALENDAR, afterall. You practically said, clear as day, I WANT YOU TO THINK OF ME, EVERY DAY, FOR THE NEXT WHOLE YEAR. WHEN YOU MAKE PLANS, WHEN YOU COUNT DAYS UNTIL, WHEN YOU LOOK AT SOMETHING FAMILIAR THAT MAPS THE PATHS YOUR LIFE WILL TAKE FOR MONTHS TO COME, I WANT YOU TO THINK OF ME. Is the person you love USING your carefully-picked-out calendar? Does it lay unopened, uncherrished, under stacks of books and scattered papers on their desk? Has this person forgotten what you gave them in hopes that they'd be better able to remember?! Have they... re-gifted??
And worst of all, the aching knowledge that even if you could believe against so many tides that this person DOES love your gorgeous calendar as you wished they loved you... Once the year is up, all that maniacal hugging is rendered vain. The teddy bear dissapears into heart-pulverizingly thin air: little button-eyes, protruding goiter stuffing, and all.
By this time next new year, your love will be gifted with a new calendar. Gorgeous, freshly blank, and nauseatingly inspirational.
From someone else.
~*~
And speaking of Trojan horses... "Trojan"..... incredibly bad brand name for condoms, or what? What were they THINKING?
The other band I'm in, Bad Folk:
Tonight at the Way Out Club
With the Good Griefs.