The Reason For The Season

Layla sent me this:

“Nicolas was older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.

The dwarfish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in their factories.

Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen into time.
He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.

Ho.
Ho.
Ho.”

— Neil Gaiman, Smoke and Mirrors

I {heart} my friends.

All I Want For Christmas

is this:

Nico woke up in his flat in Split, Croatia. On his closet door was a map created by his girlfriend, Andrea. The map showed different places for Nico to look as he took his usual route from his apartment to the academy where he studies.

What Nico found was an elaborate love poem done on the streets of Split by Andrea. She had put up stencils, paint, aerosol, collage wheat pastes etc. with last piece reading…. “i love you”.

You can see all of the images here.

(Found at Wooster Collective.)

Backlash

Home. New York City.

What do I feel? Ennui? Melancholy? Whatever it is, it sucks. Life became really dull, really fast. Sure, last night it felt nice to see my old things all in place, after 14 days away and one hell of a trek in from the airport, but now it’s all… meh. Played the guitar, had a nice cup of coffee, played music thru my nice speakers. But did it all alone, cooped up here in my dry apartment while it was gray and snowy outside.

I want hot, humid tropical air, bright equatorial light, a cute German social worker to be whiling the day with, none of which I can have: this rich, plentiful place denies me all. I’ve been trying to “recapture” the magic all day, going through pictures, chatting about my experiences. But nothing. Nothing substitutes for the real thing.

Despondent. That’s it. I’m inconsolable with loss, even while I am relieved to return to an environment I can completely control, filled with other things I like. Is it the plight of humankind always to be dissatisfied, or only mine? I suppose there’s only one thing to do: accept. Remember with gratitude that which I did receive from the Universe, and receive with humility the notion that that chapter of my life is through and a new one has begun, which will be filled with its own joys and sorrows. I hope the recent experience has changed me, made me better, more assertive, more extroverted, more optimistic about humanity and my place in it. I certainly will seek to see things around me differently: friends, strangers, tourists, locals, young, old. There are myriad untapped opportunities if only I would reach out for them, infinite untold stories if only I would stop to listen.

But right now, I grieve.