In what has become something of an annual tradition for me, this years Grinch rendering. A glorious mess of watercolors-warped paper, pencils and ink, doodled on the back of another sketch with no intention of finishing and I was like, “Eh, what the hell!”
The Christmas season – now barely held at bay by the monsters of Halloween lest it begin after the smoke of Independence Day clears – is a stressful time of year for many people. I’m not one of those people. But even I feel a palpable sense of relief on Christmas Day as though the Yule Log were a metaphor for a difficult bowel movement.
Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, there are mass migrations during some of the worst weather conditions of the year in order to reconnect with families, exchange gifts and open old wounds. Mix the blood sport of Black Friday and the impending deadline, guilt-driven, mass media drumming, last minute Christmas Eve shopping into this generalized manic-depressive social malaise and you’ve got a season of survival more so than that of celebration. Pa-rum pum pum pum! ?
One of my favorite features of the holiday season is Christmas lights. They’re like a cheerful “fuck you” to what is otherwise the darkest, bleakest, coldest, dirtiest, deadliest, most expensive and yet least prosperous time of year.