Saturday, November 27, 2010

the lost love of Ted H

I just want to crawl somewhere and do nothing
It's that kind of Saturday afternoon;
Everything's finally quiet
Little lights start popping outside, I think nice

"There are things to be done, I see you 've nothing else to do...
Why not go down and fetch the Christmas decorations? " she asks
I tell her it's that kind of Saturday afternoon
When I just want to crawl somewhere and do nothing

She says "yes but there are things to be done"
So I do it
I get up slowly and go fetch

Fetching is hard;
The boxes are not heavy
But the things their content brings back are

I'm not the kind of person who hates Christmas
I get all jolly and stuff, but year after year
It gets a little bit more difficult to have them
Without a bit of remorse, I think while upacking

Have you unpacked yet?  she calls from the kitchen
I want to speak of that remorse, but then she'll get all anxious
To find what the matter is... have I started hating
Christmas or something? Why, it's all so lovely this time of year

"Do put some music on"  and she means
You know, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin,
And the Beach Boys calling on top of their
Voices he's the man with all the toys_

Truth is my remorse get's louder with the music
The wicked desire to have liked my life a bit better
The not so sudden realization I'm no longer 15
And I should stop fantasizing this girl I never had

"You know which one? The Last Christmas song, by Wham"
Crap ! I feel like hurling
"Can't seem to find it, settle for a nice ol' White Christmas?"

"No" (pause, pause, pause) "well, no" (pause)
Someone slap me this song is proposterous
"Remember how you used to sing it all the time? Come on now..."

I sigh and put the fucking song on
Hear her hum... but the very next year you gave it awaaaay...
Think I should have used that damn cd as a coaster
Oh by Gosh by Golly it's time for Mistletoe and Holly finally took the hit ... too bad

I decorate and decorate
Candy canes, clear balls, fairies, Ludovician shoes
Red balls, gingerbread men, boots and garlands
Perhaps I'm not so fond of Christmas anymore

Perhaps I don't get all jolly and stuff
Especially when it snows and no one can go anywhere
Especially when Starbucks serves that festive coffee selection
Especially when I haven't managed to fuck that girl yet

And it's been more than ten years ; G o d !
The song ends, the tree is ready, lights on and everything
And it's night outside

I go to the door and gaze at other people's trees
Shinning behind their darkened windows
All waiting for Christmas and god knows what else
Everything's quiet again I think shit !


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