Yes, we're merrymakers in masks and sparkly frocks... Thoughts of Christmas scribble the page like a creative resurrection, but with all this metaphoric graffiti spattering the paper, I still found time to bathe in that ever-prevailing yuletide euphoria. Cookie-cutter homes stood vanguard, bejeweled with twinkling lights and shimmering snowmen… obviously Saint Nick’s navigational route to every fireside in suburbia. And while the December wind and holiday spirit seemed to blow past us, through us, and all around, we hoisted the anchor of expectancy. Celebrating the entrance of yet another year, the artificial Christmas tree now appears a depressing carcass of orphaned tinsel and prehistoric ornaments. But my mind marvels a series of Machiavellian tactics, as contractual obligations of our disheveled shopping bags lends reminder to the rest of the afternoon’s binge retail-activity. This is of course, a fleeting sterilization for those painstaking holiday blue periods. ...
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