It is really sad, I know, but I’ve not been motivated this year to do anything much for the Christmas holidays. Could be because I spent so much money on smut that I’m in debt to my ears and I am stressing over if I will have enough money to pay taxes and this damn traffic ticket, I received on Thanksgiving, or it could be that there is not much I can do in a week to illustrate my love for this holiday season and I can’t afford gifts—I did not put my tree up until the 16th of December, and it was a drag to see myself pulling that damn thing from under the house, put the decorations on it, and place the one wine gobblet, I bought as a present, under the tree and be alone to appreciate my work.

 I am just so damn lonely this year and I did not have this trouble last year and I don’t think I am handling this right. Art is not proving to be good therapy at the moment, because I can not conjure up a good piece of art for this month to save my life.

 The classic music bores me. I don’t live in an English village covered in snow, filled with carolers and bakers selling warm cookies. I can imagine a Charles Dickens setting and craft a story of gratefulness as well as he – but with no snow, my landscape reminds me of Ohio without the bitter cold. Brown, wet, muddy and not much of a winter at all. Damn Indian summer messed up my chances to take some good snow white postcards for you all.

 I can’t remember the last time I’ve had the Christmas blues and what I did to get over them. I don’t drink anymore and that could be my issue as well. I’ve been going through some kind of furlong withdrawls and my body desires to be drunk instead of dulled by the boredom of this season.

 Took me 16 days but I finally made some Christmas Cheer, bloom in my home. Took some pictures I plan on sharing with friends and family and I am nearly finished with the art associated with the season. It may not be pleasant overall or bring smiles to anyone beyond the cynic, but it reflects, truthfully how I feel about so much that is going on in the world, on the one month you’d think people would attempt civility.

 The people of China are still protesting against the encroachments of Communist Beijing. The people of France are setting fire to the bus routes, well maybe not literally, but they have shut down most of the rural entrances to the heart of the city, slowing down production. That’s never good. In my home town the people wave their Confederate flags, no burning crosses, but that’s only because we’ve not had a cold winter. No, snow. Not yet at least.

 While the world protests Brexit and the dismantling of the EU, I’ve chosen to protest whatever come over the people that made them decide to sell cold coffee and cold cookies.

 It might seem like a small matter compared to finding ways to celebrate my sons birthday. An issue I’ve put on the back burner for nine years now. Thing is, I can’t and I am sure others do not like to function on cold coffee, tea, or beat back the idea that room temperature cookies are no better than stale ones.

 I could talk about the millions stolen from African banks since October, in the Kleptocracy Asset Recovery Initiative and abroad. How the World Bank can’t or won’t explain the disappearance or the money and how the number of poor in Africa rises higher for the new year. We could discuss the constant Polish struggle of the social conservative verses the DLA, an ongoing news item, since 1989. Maybe we should talk about the President and how his quotes of excellent job growth and employment is a clear exaggeration and to many their has been no growth or change in the economy since 2009. Ten years of limited factory production. Chinese trade war and protests are not helping.

 The world all over is too stale to focus on Christmas and I am not the only one pondering how to earn enough to pay the taxes on my home; but none of this justifies being served cold coffee in the dead of winter.