June 30, 2009

Christmas Letter 2005

Ok.

Listen:
Another year has passed us by. What have we accomplished? Children of the revolution, now is the time to show your powers if ever there was a time. Once upon a time we all though that we could change the world, now all we do is look for happiness inside the one world that we inhabit. Maybe it is possible, maybe not, but this search is as important as the eventual point that we will reach. For an example, and to avoid speaking in generalizations, I would like to bring evidence my friend; we’ll call him Billy Tudor. He though that life was an empty shell of bleakness, and that there was no solace to be found. Eventually he found heroin and contracted sepsis from a rusty needle. This is not the positive example, but old Bill can teach us a lot about ourselves. When we finally decide to pack it in, we can always rely on a rusty needle to finish the job. He didn’t feel any pain at the end. The heroin dulled all his senses, and he left this world not fully cognizant of the realm of possibilities. Education had failed him. Love failed him. His parents failed him. But he persisted until he found drugs. I don’t know where I’m going with this, except for the idea that drugs are not the answer. Or don’t use rusty needles to shoot your drugs. In fact, avoid drugs that need injected. You know, or even avoid drugs as a patent concept of your character.
Yet, it is the holidays. All of us will partake in something that would make baby Jesus cry. You know, the familiar cast of characters: gluttony, avarice, lust, sloth, and their friends. It appears that they hang out in groups. Being born into sin as something outside of our choice, I am advocating an embrace of sin as a conduit to holiness. Indulge your fantasies. Overeat. Buy too many presents. Expect too many presents. Feel pride at your new acquisitions. Sleep in late. Don’t worry about school until 2006. I won’t see any of you guys for a while, so pour some out for me.
But remember those who are not with us, whose numbers will increase throughout the years, but thankfully stayed static this year. I would appreciate all of you living until the next time I see you, or else I will feel a tinge of guilt for the last letter I sent to those of you who I love so much. And you can know that I love you by the your receiving this mail. Hold my love for you as a sense of superiority over the people you encounter in everyday life that annoy you. That cashier at the supermarket who is taking forever? I don’t love her. In this context, she is nobody except for the happy fact that I was able to imagine her existence for a minute. When the revolution comes, she can genuflect at my feet as much as possible, but she will be no one. Remember this. It will allow understanding of her plight. It just might elicit a pity response, if you can sympathize with her position.
Most likely, not, and someday she will be a hunk of carbon forgotten by all but those who are close to her. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter to me. She’s so dead to me she might have never needed to exist. Small matter. What matters is that I love you guys. This is a strong, redeeming love; so don’t take it too lightly. Package it in small vials that you can bust out at the most urgent time where my love can be used. It’s helpful to know: even if you seldom need to make use of it, it will always be there for your consumption.