Some time ago, when I was in the supermarket, I noticed there were Christmas sweets conspicuously blocking the centre of the main aisle. I thought it strange, wondering if that was last year’s stock that they forgot to put down. Then, as I was leaving the place, I overheard some people discussing the C-word. Christmas. I considered them insane because it’s clearly too soon for that shit.
Then I went to have my hair cut to my usual hairdresser. She remembers me well enough to know what I want when I ask for my usual, but she keeps on forgetting that I’m the weird moron who doesn’t talk. Her first question, after making sure that I really wanted half my hair shaved off again, was, So have you already got your C-presents? I froze at the irrelevancy of such an inquiry. Then I replied, I’m Buddhist.
On which it was the hairdresser’s turn to freeze, not knowing what the fuck was going on. Well, nothing is going on, which is precisely the idea. I’m not Christian, so I don’t celebrate Christmas. See, Christian–Christmas, it’s sort of obvious that these two concepts are related, no? I don’t celebrate anything for the matter. Except the New Year. As long as celebrating means feeling awkward and wishing everything went back to normal asap. Celebrating is a social construct anyway. That’s a nice way to say it’s humbug.