All I want for Christmas is Muse
There wasn’t meant to be a The Dissemination of Thought post tonight. I was planning on relaxing with a DVD and ice cream while I bid on shit I really don’t need on eBay. Like most good plans, mine came unstuck somewhere along the line, specifically at the point where I substituted the mint chocolate chip for three glasses of red wine and a few Scotches.
Between witnessing a myriad of morons – which from this point on will officially replace the twelve drummers drumming – throwing credit cards around in a last-minute buying frenzy and contemplating Thalia’s eventual return, I postulated about what I’d request for Christmas if there was actually an omnipotent figure with a penchant for red suits in charge of dishing out presents. A Ferrari? My weight in cash? A perpetual supply of socks and jocks? No, there’s only one thing that makes any sense to ask this festive season genie for: my Muse.
When you look past the ridiculous materialistic and commercial elements, this time of year is all about family and friends. Thalia’s a mix of both. She embarrasses me, but she makes me proud. I care deeply for her, but her jokes suck. She’s selfish, but I’ve got dibs on her liver. I’ve given up trying to work out where she is and when she’ll turn up next, but I know that if I really need her, she’ll be there. If it’s after 8:45am she’ll have a buzz on, and I’m convinced that she is stealing my CDs one by one, but my Muse will be there, inspiring me and offering answers as to why I’ve woken up in the shower with the water still running, holding an empty bottle of single malt and using a soggy copy of Rolling Stone as a makeshift pillow.
So if I only get one gift this year, I’d like Thalia back: tanned, sober(ish) and ready to get her lazy, hightailing ass back to work.
Author’s note to the jolly fat man: Santa, if you’re reading this, a left-handed Kurt Cobain Jaguar would make a fantastic stocking stuffer. I know I don’t play yet, but having that axe would certainly help to inspire me to guitar greatness. Or not. It’s your call.