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And the
stars? Stars are not freckles in the sky.
Enough donations,
enough specials, blackheaded gifts on the face of
the earth...
Oh, dumb oxen, don't
be such donkeys!
Christmas, coming with a sleigh pulled by four depressed seagulls, I see
people leaving home and not going back because they gave it as a present,
gave it away.
The King Giveaway won
over Christmas, a man apparently altruistic until he died, but he didn't die,
he had someone else killed in his place. Monarchy of obligations, making
up unravelling fine words, wishes
to those who are faking it, so many words, so little time...
Christmas is the
circus for those without a cause, for those who have nothing-to-say-we'll-call-you,
for those who say I-live, I-was-summer, I'm-here, when I was little at
Christmas, I died (out ofdesire and I gave
magnifying lenses to those who did not see the time).
You can give an
armchair if you want because there is no certainty in a couch;
a pianoforte for those who are indecisive, a lovely nothing to those who have
everything that's ugly, an eye for an eye for those
who are vindictive, another cheek for those who forgive, a friend if you love
animals. Be nice with Snow White, abolish the commanders, the remote
controls, and delete
the dates, whether it is that of a generous Christmas but not all kinds:
define, wish, choose, exchange, send away who lives Christmas only at
Christmas.
“Mirror
mirror of my desire, tell me what the essence of this kingdom is!” Your are adored, not adorned, if
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you are
lovely within; if it is your one hundredth Christmas, sell it for half a
penny, if they ask you to choose between giving your word or giving the
numbers, give the numbers, get out of the tradition, go for a walk, whoever
chooses to be better can do it for the cannibals or not at all because
Christmas is not always edible, in fact it is often indigestible and indirigible, uncontrollable, fleeting, never relaxing,
often strained, then unconvincing... Cheers
to those who don't sweat the small stuff, who replace humility
by magnificent vitality, who knock not only on doors but down any wall, who
inundate without water, who avert a disaster when it comes or better before
it does, who honour their father but not always honour, who know that the
word hero has four letters too may, who repudiate with faithfulness
everything conscious of the fact of knowing how to change, who is not afraid
of fear, who stops speaking about courage and continues working on fear, who have more chairs, more roots, more
countries, more fathers, more mothers, more children, more double meaning, less traffic lights
(or
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at least with more colour), to
whom enjoys the ocean, to whom dredges without undermining, to whom makes
nice differences between invokers and lawyers, to whom stirs things up, to
whom cares but not heedlessly, to whom
mulls things over now, and then works them out again...
To whom lets loose
and does not bind, but fights to unchain, to all those
who look but don't see (or see only those they look), to all those who learn
they have to give pleasure until they actually want to, to those who have
discovered that they have a temple between the temples, to those who go witch
hunting with the witches but not to hunt.
My best wishes to
all. Best wishes to those whose ideas are not confused, to those who make the
difference between good and bad, to those who paint, sculpt, sing in the
shower, to those who will never imitate anyone, who will climb on a giraffe,
who do not keep for themselves, who go into hibernation to learn about moles,
who want such a life and such a story for Christmas, and to the others.
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