Happy December 25, no matter what your clock and/or a calendar says.
Important: A note to folks dealing with chronic / complex illness, otherwise shut-in or feeling alone, frustrated by “all of this”: I see you and been you. Christmases alone at Chinese restaurants, nursing coffees at Denny’s, stuck hitchhiking, blue, alone, sick, and confused &/or in Hospital #peace
Normal: And in Japan, Christmas is known as “Monday, 25th”– a normal day in which nothing special happens // although we are going to the optician [update: we did] then post office, groceries ordered and delivered, garbage goes out tonight. So we go on.
& @milk_records
from an order sent in possibly their final hour.
{Yes, that is my address so you can send me a postcard or records}
Related:
Aside: For the record (because someone always asks): no, we don’t go to KFC on Christmas. Or ever. Somehow this myth persists and I guess there are people that do this but I’ve never met them.
Funny enough, you’re only the 42nd person to ask me that this week. And the short answer is: we sure don’t and I’ve never met anyone who actually does but somehow this has become the “story” just like that in Japan everyone eats whale meat and you can buy panties from vending machines – there are probably people that do but I don’t know them. Japan has lots of weirdness but the stories that appear in the “outside media” are all about this “outrageous strange Japan that might exist but I don’t know about it”
In response to one of numerous inquiries about KFC
Next up: From now, most all the folks start to busyily prepare for New Year – which involves intense thorough house cleaning, eating plain buckwheat noodles, attempting to not choke on glutinous rice paste, and then three days of watching inane TV programs (overstimulating variety shows followed by a multi day relay marathon with tortured college students), while eating delicacies – which some might consider each a “dare you to eat this”… (I just, as it’s actually wonderfully-prepared, elegant & elevated cuisine), ergo:
While choosing through this chessboardlike box of mysterious delights – osechi – folks *pretend* to eagerly await something more spectacular than the mythos of the Santy Clause… the simultaneous delivery on early New Year’s morning of approximately 1.3 billion postcards by the diligent and exceptional Postal Service.
Most cards – generally preformatted and understated but carrying this years’ zodiac animal/creature/avatar (dragon for the record) – carry a “secret code” which corresponds with a sort of national lottery in which you look up the numbers in the newspaper to see if you’ve won like a trip to Hawaii, a car, or maybe some stamps. I won stamps once, two of them. Lucky! ¥63
And time is overrated, direction is everything, carry on in towards the cardinal of your choosing – aho!
