8 posts tagged Christmas
Nancy Reagan sits on the lap of Mr. T, dressed as Santa, 1983.
"What’s the best way to dispose of a Christmas tree? Shoot that bastard into space."
- Watch the process
- Watch the video
- Cry with joy
It’s not that I have nice memories on this one. It does remind me of parties and Dublin, but in a strange twisted way. Years ago I spent endless nights working at a loser’s pub in Camden Town, populated by a bunch of old irish heavy-drinkers who felt miserable because they missed Ireland. I was myself a foreigner within the foreigners and felt twice as miserable as they did, until one night this woman, whom all named “mother”, came and asked me “don’t you have a mother and a father? why are you here?” and I decided she was so right and I just left and moved to Amsterdam which is full of weird dutch people but at least they were not SAD all the time.
But before that, I had to listen to this song over and over for months, because they wouldn’t ever stop playing it in the fucking jukebox. It drove me nuts. I started to hate Ireland. You know how it goes. You love something so much, you are thrilled everytime a song plays, you find irish accent so sweet, you are more than happy to oblige and sing alive alive o and pour guinness, and then one day everything stinks and you are on the other side, hating so much and you know something, somewhere, is wrong.
It’s usually you who is fucked up, of course. Guinness is good, this song is good, the Pogues are awesome, I’m over it all and I just don’t know why am I ranting about all this old stuff. I just wanted to say, hey, Happy Xmas.
Este va para Carmen.
LIFE: “LIFE Goes To An Office Christmas Party”, Dec. 27, 1948, p. 86-87
Employes and bosses loosen up all over the place”
I first find the link to this issue of the LIFE Magazine via Retrospace. It has a great post on office Christmas parties, along with photos and quotes.
Soy un hombre tranquilo. Trato de pensar las cosas y trato de no decir mucho. Pero aquí estoy, tal vez diciendo demasiado. Pero supongo que hay sentimientos dentro de mí que necesitan escapar urgentemente. Y esto me hace sentir liberado porque una de mis preocupaciones en estos años es haber perdido la habilidad de sentir las cosas con la misma intensidad —del modo como las sentía cuando era más joven. Da miedo —sentir que tus emociones se van flotando y que no pase nada. Supongo que lo verdaderamente da miedo es que no te importe la pérdida.
El texto es de Douglas Coupland. Feliz Navidad.
She’s mine now.