Misletoes

This year was the first year where Christmas didn't exist.

Though my family never celebrated Christmas (us being Asian and all), Christmas was always an unescapable fact of life. In Australia, in England, in Canada. Christmas arelways seemed to creep earlier and earlier into our consciousness each year, when we'd walk into a mall and hear the familiar tingles of Christmas songs ad nauseum and sigh Oh is it that time of the year already?

Red, green, gold and silver twinkle high and low. Ornamented trees and reindeers in David Jones (Sydneysiders will know this is a big chain of department stores), or that fucking huge nativity scene with the garish coloured lights and plastic camels on Pennent Hills Road or thereabouts. But it was definitely in the Bible Belt of Sydney.

There would always be reports on the News at Six on Ten (at six o'clock, on Channel Ten) about consumer spending and customer confidence and how much we're all putting on credit cards like it's a scandal. And how the smart ones are waiting to purchase that big ticket white good till after Boxing Day when the sales start.

And for the past three Christmases it was the biting and soul-awakening cold. The kind of Christmas image seen and experienced in most of the world but a wonder to me but somehow made all the sense. Santa looked right here, against the white snow in his fur-lined coat. And so did the turkey. The Germans know how to put on Christmas. Sucking back a mug of gluhwein and munching on cinnamon biscuits at the Christmas market in the cold, among twinkling lights, watching steam rise and disappate with each increasingly alcoholic breath. Nose and cheeks red from cold and heat but never given a second thought. Just tug that hat down a little more securely over the ears and do a little jig on the spot.

Christmas didn't exist this year. I went into the office and did my nine hours. I went in again today. It's Boxing Day, elsewhere in the world. I will go into the office again tomorrow and the day after. What are these street posters that I see? Christmas Hip Hop Party. Buffet dinner, only NT$1500 per person. What baffoonery. A piss-weak attempt at a foreign concept and it's irritating. Like scratching nails on a blackboard.

Every year, Norway presents a huge Christmas tree to Britain to thank the Brits for saving their arse in WWII. The tree is erected in Trafalgar Square along with a plaque stating this very fact.

History. Tradition. Christmas.

The Garden Path

It occurred to me not that long ago, in fact, whilst I was in the shower 30 mins earlier, that I hadn't penned a Countdown of any sorts for a while.

And I'd hate to be called out for Fraudulent Advertising here. Or indeed any where.

So a little recap of my Asia Edition timeline.
Yawn.
I arrived in Taiwan on the 25th June.
Yawwwn.
It will be the 25th December on Tuesday.
Yaaawwwnnnn - look people just bear with me for two seconds will you???

It will mark six months of my existence here. What will this Countdown countdown to? Another six months of convolution? Or two months? Or a week? Perhaps it will be a countdown to When Tina T Cracks. Place your bets people.

Ah but there'll be another twist to the story.

Yes there will.

Love Sick

Oh wow, so this is what it feels like. So new, so exciting, so sexy...

To have something to hold and say it's all mine.

I can't believe how satisfying this experience has been and how long I've waited for it.

And at 12 inches, it's just the right size...

Ladies and gentlemen, I have brought myself a laptop!

My very first, very own, very slick little number that gives me hours of joy. I am finally reconnected to the world, a world that has been denied to me at work, a world that I only glimpsed at home on a dirty laptop that's already been on someone else's lap but now it's a brand new day and now that me and my baby have found each other we're going for a long, long drive together.

Update

By the way, the firewall at work has cotton on to www.blogger.com and have now banned access to the site. Sigh... One less thing I get to do at work...

Yet it's still permissible to read personal blogs, even one's like Monmouth.

What crazy, topsy-turvy world we live in today.

Jazz and Blues

I went to a jazz club tonight.

Surprisingly, it was probably the best jazz club I have ever been to in my life. Kudos to Taipei. Has anyone ever heard of a song called Wild Women Don't Have the Blues by Ida Cox? Written in 1924 (that's right, 1924), the lyrics will strike at the heart of any woman worth her salt today. Brings to my mind Erykah Badu's Tyrone, from her 1997 album Live. Ida did it in 1924.

Wild Women Don't Get the Blues
I hear these women raving 'bout their monkey men
About their trifling husbands
and their no good friends
These poor women sit around all day and moan
Wondering why their wandering papa's don't come home
But wild women don't worry, wild women don't have no blues
Now when you've got a man, don't never be on the square
'Cause if you do he'll have a woman everywhere
I never was known to treat no one man right
I keep 'em working hard both day and night
'Cause wild women don't worry, wild women don't have their blues
I've got a disposition and a way of my own
When my man starts kicking I let him find another home
I get full of good liquor, walk the streets all night
Go home and put my man out if he don't act right
Wild women don't worry, wild women don't have their blues
You never get nothing by being an angel child
You better change your ways and get real wild
I wanna tell you something, I wouldn't tell you a lie
Wild women are the only kind that really get by
'Cause wild women don't worry, wild women don't have their blues

Tyrone
[Erykah] "Lets See How Ya'll Groove to this"
"Alright"
I'm gettin' tired of your shit
You don't never buy me nothin
'See Everytime you come around
You got to bring Jim, James, Paul, & Tyrone
See why can't we be by ourselves, sometimes
See I've been having this on my mind
For a long timeI just want it to be
You and me
Like it used to be, Baby
But ya don't know how to act
So matter of fact
[Chorus] I think ya better call Tyrone (Call Him)
And Tell him come on, Help you get your Shit (Come On, Come on)
You need to Call Tyrone (Call Him)
And tell him I said come on
Now everytime I ask you for a little cash
You say no and turn right around and ask me for some ass
Oh, Well hold up listen partna
I ain't no cheap thrill
Cause Miss Badu is always comin' for real
And you know the deal
Everytime we go somewhereI gotta reach down in my purse
To pay your way and your homeboys way
And sometimes your cousin's way
They don't never have to pay
Don't have no cars
Hang around in bars
Try to hang around with stars
Like Badu
I'm gon' tell you the truth
Show and proveor get the boot
I think ya better, (Erykah Badu-He, he he) (Call Him)
And tell him come on
Help you get your shit
You need to call Tyrone (Call Him)
[Erykah Badu] "Hold On"
But ya can't use my phone