So who's watching?

Probably no one. Christmas seems to have lost a lot of weight. Angels looks surpirisingly unhealthy blowing their trumpets from the lampposts with their sunken cheeks and rigid bodies. Santa is nowhere in sight. Impostors, however, walk around in malls clanging teacher's bells. The presents look like they don't have anything in them; a piece of clothing perhaps, a book, a toy, or perfume- all made up of the same atoms and molecules rearranged that will eventually amount to dust or air, or a useless object you keep wondering how it got there. Nativity dioramas are disturbing sights, nightmare-inducing scenes of humanoids and animoids(?) hovering over a baby with doll eyes (there was one who carried a feeding bottle) like they were about to operate on the "child". The money that comes with Christmas doesn't look as appealing as a the regular paycheck, hell it's a lot bigger but what to do...buy another pair of pants? a second anniversary present for your long-distance boyfriend? another Murakami perhaps? what about that donation your waitresss friend asked for their Christmas party? It's not like you won the lottery, just a few thousand pesos bigger than the usual. In truth, most things are the same. I have no interest on delivering an explanation. Not that it needs one.

A couple of things: first, everywhere sucketh- might as well be nowhere. A friend of a friend told me that- which is not to say I didn't. So you walk- to not be somewhere long enough to feel the sucky-ness. Everywhere sucketh, not everyone or everything, but everywhere. Might as well find a reason to smile about like that incredible apparition of man in a white shirt sipping hot choco after dawn mass and better- laughing because hot choco is just sikwate or replacing "God" in responsorial psalms with "Bjork" (makes more sense anyway) and your boyfriend in a surprise visit stripping naked in front you saying: I surrender.

[Not to say that the man in the white shirt isn't a frustrating tease. Not to say that sikwate isn't more of a reason for going to dawn mass than trying to catch the Christmas "spirit". Not to say you didn't need Bjork just to keep yourself awake throughout the mass. Not to say that the boyfriend won't be back until the twelfth of never but your utterly idiotic love for him will last as long. (God bless you Nina Simone)]

I lit three candles to burn away all these (including the Christmas sickness) or to initiate in the physical what cannot be done in my heart. The Christians will revel, not because their god is once again a helpless infant or he's come to save the world Neo-style- but because people are sick and because the dog in the street doesn't have a soul, just like the transexual prostitute standing in front of Bread and Butter and because finally finally, they lie on chaise lounges eating ice cream guilt-free.

The second of that couple of things (yes I haven't forgotten) is this:

the long beep in that scene where the crowd goes wild and fireworks explode in the sky and the handsome soldier is shouting in silence in a battlefield and the deaf japanese girl experiences disco and the shoppers are going crazy and the dying man is going to heaven. His wife is telling him so.

Most of the time it's slow-motion. Only because the soldier saw death, the japanese girl heard life, the dying man had both, and the rest were just watching the fireworks carrying shopping bags filled with goodies.


Ho-ho-ho. Hoe hoe hoe? Hahaha.