Tuesday

So I am receiving conflicting reports regarding Saturday night's accident at the club. One report ends in death and the other ends in "just some broken bones" as the result of a patron attempting to scale a wall on the second floor and falling to the first floor. So I am confused and curious, and will keep you posted as I learn more details.

Either way, it's not exactly the sort of thing one desires during the holidays.

It's cold here in Los Angeles these days. It's a bitter wet cold that lingers in the air.

Spending most of my time in solitude, I attempt to reconcile my feelings toward the holidays. I am an atheist, so there is no religious foundation for me. I understand that "Christmas" has become more of secular season of festivities, but I feel distant even from that.

I object to the emphasis on consumerism, the pressure to max out credit cards at department stores committing auditory assault with constant Christmas music. With the Christmas campaign beginning as early as October, it's as if the world works itself up into a red and green frenzy, with advertisers counting down the days like a bomb.

My Christmas shopping begins and ends at The 99 Cents Only Store, and collectively, I don't plan on spending more than twenty dollars. The rest will be handmade or expressed in a thoughtful note.

In Los Angeles, where everyone immigrates to realize their Hollywood dreams, the city becomes a slick grey ghost town. I run around these streets as if I am the King of LA, reveling in the emptiness, the solitude, the soggy concrete.

For a while I resisted the holidays with spiny criticism comparable to the Grinch's shriveled heart, refusing decorations and visits with my family.

This year, however, I have quietly given myself over to a modest display of cheer. My door is adorned with not a wreathe, but a gold bow with a rainbow-colored star. Not quite traditional, but not quite completely foreign either. Even my bicycle selected an ornament for itself. While locked up near the Christmas tree at the Airliner, a red star became entangled in the spokes, which I noticed much later.

The 'Hog had "spoken." I tied the ornament to the saddle.

I am also planning on going home, this time equipped with a new appreciation for my family.

I still celebrate privately, which few people can understand. I wade among the crowds, towing my bike, taking my time from Point A to Point B, bundled up in coat, scarf, and mittens, people-watching at the coffee shop, coming and going as I please.

And it is in this solitude that I find a private joy, singing Christmas Time Is Here to myself, to the start of those around me.

Devoid of religion and devoid of consumerism (The other American faith), this time is an opportunity to embrace those I love and reflect upon what I am grateful for.

I wonder what it would be like if "Christmas" meant an exchange of kind letters to one another.

It wouldn't be very good for the economy now, would it?