the christmas muse




What a bitch, don’t you think? Why, she can spin a holiday any ‘ole way she wants. Happy, sad, in, out, she pummels you with inspiration, dangles expectation over your head like mistletoe, she pinches you on the nose and says,

follow me here,

and shifting she says,

oh no, follow me there,

or no, follow your heart, oh … follow, follow, follow, she whispers.

What a tease with all that sugar plum shit she fairy dusts around. And she knows, she knows that inspiration can go any which way, don’t you think?

He was inspired to leave after the argument. She was inspired to write love letters when she felt she was loved. She was inspired by Christmases past to believe in fantasy.

See how tricky the Christmas muse can be? Duping you, baiting you, taking you on a ride through your timeline and adding a loop or two for good for bad for memory for fun for future contemplation. Why, my brain is having a very tough time sorting through all these twinkling lights, never mind put it to paper.

Stupid Christmas muse. She inspires me to reflect on everything, a tree dried and heavy with decades old garland, about to burst into flames. – ph


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