Today, I was supposed go to Birmingham, to my mother's, for the whole silly Thanksgiving thing. Actually, we'd planned to go yesterday evening and come back tomorrow. But I've yet to shake the glumness that settled over me after Daughter of Hounds, and I told my mother that I was still entirely too unpleasant to be around. She agreed that I sounded very glum. So, we stayed in Atlanta. These days, I'm actually fairly indifferent about Thanksgiving. Another Xtian holiday I no longer have any use for. But I am amused at how Thanksgiving resists marketing, largely frustrating the efforts of those who might make more of a consumer blitz of it. I mean, yeah, the grocery stores and turkey farmers and the like, they do okay off Thanksgiving, but it lacks the balls-to-the-wall marketability oomph afforded by Halloween, Xmas, and, to somewhat lesser degrees, Easter and Valentine's Day. I am fixing Spooky a nice, turkeyless dinner tonight, because I'm not a total asshole, but, for my part, Thanksgiving just makes me wish the "Indians" had been a little less friendly.
Oh, and I've been listening to lots and lots of Jethro Tull, because Jethro Tull has become something I listen to in the winter to combat the handful of nasty little Xmas gremlins that always manage to slip through the cracks in my tin-foil hat. "Aqualung" and "Skating Away on the Thin Ice of a New Day" can be counted on to kick Xmas gremlin butt every time. Even the numerous Xmas songs Jethro Tull has recorded kick Xmas gremlin butt.
I thought I might have more to say. Maybe later in the day. Maybe not. We shall see.
And as you cross the circle line, well, the ice-wall creaks behind — you're a rabbit on the run.
And silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye — shining in the setting sun.
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like you're the only person sitting in the audience? (Jethro frelling Tull)