HUMAN WRECKAGE

Table Manners

Eden has been paved over and is populated by coyotes, some of whom bet on the Maple Leafs. Indeed, turn this crazy bird around by any and all means necessary. That’s meGeoff’s Joni Mitchell 101 course description, her oeuvre as a thumbnail clipping inside a nutshell.

A song of hers that I’ve come to admire and appreciate in recent years is “The River”, which has become something of a holiday season standard: It’s comin’ on Christmas and they’re cuttin’ down trees, puttin’ up reindeer….  I imagine the narrator comfortably ensconced in the California warmth of Laurel Canyon, glad times. Still, depressed as almost always, she longs for a frozen river to skate away on. The imagery is disparate and sadly beautiful.

I’m sitting in the dining room at the head of the table. The view through the picture window behind me, which I took in for a moment before I sat down, was peculiar for Christmas Eve day. The only white I saw was on the trunks of the two birch trees in the front yard. Deciduous and particular, they’re the last of their kind in the neighbourhood, maybe the city too. The grass was green. There was an extra rock in the garden, a still hare doing its best impression of a stray patch of snow.

I’m expanding the table, twisting a gerry-built crank, a ratchet welded to a steel rod which in turn is welded to another steel rod to form a T-shaped tool. Leftie loosey. The original crank has been lost since nobody can really remember when. Imagine a more elegant tool of the type that would goose the engine of a motorcar or a bi-plane, ergonomic and efficient. It’s tedious work. My view is the primary colours of the kitchen backsplash tiles, yellow, red and blue and shades of the latter two.

There are two leaves for the table, both warped. One is 14 inches wide, the other 15. They were originally labeled “left” and “right” which kind of makes sense for an oval although which side are you on and anyway, left and right is kind of a grey area for me - cursive writing excepted. I relabeled the leaves “kitchen” and “window” a few years ago: this one slots in here and that one goes there. Simple. But that was then, when I used to crank the table apart with my back to the kitchen while looking out the dining room window. Since then, the table has done a complete rotation. So now, the “kitchen” leaf goes toward the window and the “window” leaf goes toward the kitchen.

Sometimes, I believe I’d like to escape the needless complexity of this, the most commercial of seasons. My Christmases through the decades have run the gamut from low comedy to tragedy, lonely to chaotic and joyous, and more than one “Fuck me, I can’t believe that went well.” Just like yours. These days I tend to pre-worry about the dishes, the mess and the cleanup. I wish some of those crime scene biohazard restoration companies held Boxing Day sales.

Winter solstice has passed. The days are getting longer. In days like these, the times we live in, that’s sort of a mixed blessing. Christmas as a declaration of Christian faith is a one-sided deal, a bit like trying to redeem a lifetime warranty from a Sears or Eaton’s. Salvation as a corporate mission statement has proved false. No coincidence fervent believers are described as sheep. The terrible truth lies in advertising. Buy fulfilment in goods and services because Indulgences don't payoff like Trifectas. At least the Coca-Cola Santa said, “Enjoy!” Ice cold, of course.

I’ve always dwelled on that side of town, on the cynical side of the tracks. Christmas (and maybe Thanksgiving) is a big deal about the everyday. For the most part, all things considered, it’s pretty good to be alive most of the time. Some days I can’t believe my luck. And for the vast majority of us, circumstances can always be worse and I’m the type who figures it’s just a matter of time. I sweat the fates of others less fortunate than me and do the little I’m capable of for them as best I can. I’m not always kind to strangers, but I at least try to be polite. Maintaining and strengthening bonds with friends and relations sometimes takes a little work, some effort, although it’s never hard, backbreaking. I don’t need to be reminded of any of this one particular day in each passing year.

I suppose I resent Christmas a little bit. The annual hassle and expense of being reminded how to lead a daily life of modest decency. Still, I hope your day will be as merry as it can be. And I mean that.           

Dispatches from the Crooked 9 is celebrating ten years as your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of everything. My companion site www.megeoff.com has been refreshed, revamped, revitalized and otherwise reinvigorated. Watch and listen to some of the songs I co-wrote with The Muster Point Project or buy 5 KG, the complete EP. Of course, you can still purchase my latest book Of Course You Did in your preferred format from your preferred e-retailer.