A Christmas Carol, only retold through my own narcissism. The comic a diary, so it appropriate to appropriate, as it were. But too much appropriation becomes distasteful for everyone around me. Distasteful an adjective for the ghost of Christmas past: being forced to sit at the table until I ate my meat. A power struggle I never lost, but also never won, unless the winning was to maintain a sour memory of being misunderstood. A memory I am happy to impart today on my own children.
Christmas present today marked by an obsessive eye on the oil tank level, and the impossibility of making ends meet.
And Christmas future, of course, having died alone. The call no doubt an unsolicited sales pitch.
The punchline here that I am complaining to that final ghost (stylized off of Feiffer's Terrible Trivium from Norton Juster's 1961'The Phantom Tollbooth') that he has focused on the wrong elements to do Dickens justice, but I am myself that ghost/demon and the story I tell is itself off-the-mark. The chains I forge a recognizable pattern, forged willingly, and yet I still forge them and will do so to my grave.
A Christmas Carol, only retold through my own narcissism. The comic a diary, so it appropriate to appropriate, as it were. But too much appropriation becomes distasteful for everyone around me. Distasteful an adjective for the ghost of Christmas past: being forced to sit at the table until I ate my meat. A power struggle I never lost, but also never won, unless the winning was to maintain a sour memory of being misunderstood. A memory I am happy to impart today on my own children.
ReplyDeleteChristmas present today marked by an obsessive eye on the oil tank level, and the impossibility of making ends meet.
And Christmas future, of course, having died alone. The call no doubt an unsolicited sales pitch.
The punchline here that I am complaining to that final ghost (stylized off of Feiffer's Terrible Trivium from Norton Juster's 1961'The Phantom Tollbooth') that he has focused on the wrong elements to do Dickens justice, but I am myself that ghost/demon and the story I tell is itself off-the-mark. The chains I forge a recognizable pattern, forged willingly, and yet I still forge them and will do so to my grave.
No Scrooge revelatory Christmas awakening here.
Also, another vintage phone.