December 24, 2015

Awakened on Christmas Eve by thunder and lightning. A great mass of water dives from the sky, all deeply musical, if distressing at this time of year. Are there still Global Warming scoffers? It has hours to clear away before I hit the road.
  
All Is Calm flawless last night, at least all that issued from my seat.  The house continues to be packed, the money continues to roll in. I am happy for everybody.
  
Met Z in the back alley by night, and was embraced.
  
Despite our quarrel, Image puts my “Carol of the Infuriated Hour” on their Facebook post for Christmas.
  
Very bad night, but I seem to be recovered now. There either is no God or He can put up with a great deal of imprecation.

Hilton’s Embassy Suites in Alpharetta, a gigantic room (by the standards of one whose recent hotel experiences have been Europe and New York) on a boxy atrium, with a big decorated tree on the main floor, and attendants dressed in Santa hats. I am, in an odd sort of way, the way of the explorer, content. Hung out at the North Point Mall for a while, taking in the happy, celebratory faces. The boys have the mannerisms of my nephews. The drive was an endless swim through rain that varied from thin to torrential. Tedious. Dangerous. The car radio crackling with lightning. Early on, the truck in front of me shed a long strip of tread from its tire which flew back and hit my car. When I stopped, I saw that there was substantive damage, the tread having marred the fender and  knocked the front parking light out of its socket. It’s always something. Gave the cheerful Hispanic waitress a tip larger than the bill. Fighting off exhaustion until it is really night. What if there is a gift with my name on it under the tree in the morning?

Talked with a sad woman at the hotel bar– where the drinks were free until 7:30. Her children are ungrateful. Her father just died and the expected inheritance is tied up by Merrill-Lynch and a self-serving sister who is serving as executrix. Her daughter just barred her from seeing her granddaughters Christmas morning.

The oddest thing. I was talking with an old guy in he elevator when I heard myself say, “I don’t know how Santa is going to find me so far from home.” That random thought filled me with such grief and forlornness I have not yet shaken it off.