(no subject)
It was Christmas Eve, babe...in the drunk tank, and an old man said to me, "won't see another one".
Christmas had always somewhat perplexed Eostre, if she was honest. She didn't understand. The trees were pretty. She'd always rather enjoyed the food, but it seemed to her that God got rather lost in it. The Christians had such a funny little God to begin with, a scruffy little boy who'd meant well, who'd had a good heart. It had always rather appeared to her that they'd missed the point; that religion had got quieter and duller as it got older. It used to be a party all of them and their voices and the dancing and the blood and the food and the fire.
And it all came down to trees.
Eostre lay on the couch in the rec-room with her feet propped up on one arm and her head on the other and stared at the tree. She wasn't sure what it had to do with trees. It used to have to do with Mithras (poor Mithras), a lot like Easter used to have a lot to do with something else too. Eostre wrinkled her nose and took another big bite of biscuit. She had a plate of them resting on her stomach...she wondered how long she was going to be able to do that.
At least the tree was pretty. And the biscuits were good. That was something.
And she was fond of this song.
The boys of the N.Y.P.D choir were singing 'Galway Bay', and the bells were ringin' out for Christmas day.
(ooc: Couldn't resist posting my Pagan Goddess on Christmas Eve. Timed to sometime in the afternoon. I can't be the ONLY one who's home and bored on Christmas? Tag whenever you like in the next few days. She'll share her biscuits).
Christmas had always somewhat perplexed Eostre, if she was honest. She didn't understand. The trees were pretty. She'd always rather enjoyed the food, but it seemed to her that God got rather lost in it. The Christians had such a funny little God to begin with, a scruffy little boy who'd meant well, who'd had a good heart. It had always rather appeared to her that they'd missed the point; that religion had got quieter and duller as it got older. It used to be a party all of them and their voices and the dancing and the blood and the food and the fire.
And it all came down to trees.
Eostre lay on the couch in the rec-room with her feet propped up on one arm and her head on the other and stared at the tree. She wasn't sure what it had to do with trees. It used to have to do with Mithras (poor Mithras), a lot like Easter used to have a lot to do with something else too. Eostre wrinkled her nose and took another big bite of biscuit. She had a plate of them resting on her stomach...she wondered how long she was going to be able to do that.
At least the tree was pretty. And the biscuits were good. That was something.
And she was fond of this song.
The boys of the N.Y.P.D choir were singing 'Galway Bay', and the bells were ringin' out for Christmas day.
(ooc: Couldn't resist posting my Pagan Goddess on Christmas Eve. Timed to sometime in the afternoon. I can't be the ONLY one who's home and bored on Christmas? Tag whenever you like in the next few days. She'll share her biscuits).