An English In Kentucky


















December 24th 2010    Tim Candler

    The best Christmas Eve is a drunken Christmas Eve, but sobriety dictates these days, and anyway for a professional drunk Christmas Eve is too dominated by amateurs.  Those who play at a thing.  Run around in circles yelling "isn't this fun."

    I understand the Puritan, I take joy from the dour and grim and I wander in the shadow of past time where I find memories enough of drunkenness to keep me warm.    

     Once I drove all the way to Detroit.  And the following week I had to drive there again because I had mislaid a few days.  Happier though, are memories of waking up in random places hard to recognize.  Best of all, smelling the morning air, feeling for a cigarette and then finding one.

     Now I am orderly.  I direct like a crossing guard.  And I am ready with the shotgun for Reindeer.

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