December 25th: Sad Xmas

Day 99

Woke in Lindsey's stiff bed, clothes smoky, teeth fuzzy, hair like Jack Nicholson after a temper tantrum. I felt like someone used me as an accordion. I croaked, "Do you have any water?" Merry Christmas.

We tried to feel a hundred percent again for a couple hours. I played my Lino songs for her online, and we watched the end of "The Matrix." When at last hunger won the battle against laziness, we walked down to UBC for a Christmas banquet of pizza. It kicked ass, better than the hotel's pizza by far. Better crust, better flavored sauce, everything. I woozed in my sofa seat, ready to sleep, cry, rub my face, kill the speakers for blasting awful carols. They were the kind sung by Brylcream'd men and women in horrible sweaters grinning away their Christianity and coupon-clipped goodwill towards men. In China at least I won't be privy to the abhorrent "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" and all its NASCAR-fart joke shit-kicking it's-ok-to-be-ignorant glee. That song hurts America.

We walked back and swung by Kedu.Ipicked up some wine for Matt and Erin, a bunch of candy for my good students. Then Lindsey and I parted ways. I took a cab back to the school and my dude had a remix of S.H.E.'s "Superstar" on the hifi. I nodded to him, pointed to the stereo, said "S.H.E.?" He nodded back. That song is ubiquitous.

At the gate I asked if I had any packages by raising my shoulders. My guy waved me off. I got back to my room and a card had fallen off the chair and opened, so I was greeted by a dying-battery Casio version of "Fur Elise." Matt and Erin weren't in, and the power was out in my main room, so no coffee, no computer, no hot water for a shower. Jenn called, wished me a Merry Christmas. I would have liked to have talked to her longer but she was a few Guinness to the wind and had to turn in from an exhausting day of present delivering to her girls.

I started going batshit in my room. I went over to the arts building, ran through my entire repertoire. I forgot the words of some of the older songs I haven't done in a while. Almost conjured some words for the "whiskey stomp" tune. It's extremely catchy.

I got back, still no Erin and Matt, the power was back but the internet was down. There was a note from Nigel that he had a "small parcel" for me, but both he and Shi's bikes were gone, and so then were they. I lounged on my bed using the stuffed dog (who needs a name badly) as a body pillow, watched V8 super car racing, felt sad. There was no way to contact Lindsey without computer. I couldn't call anybody in America because the school phone wouldn't work with my phone card. Even if I could, it was late and they were asleep.

Erin knocked later on, came in. I was still hugging the dog and watching TV. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Having a sad Christmas."

She and Matt were fixing pasta and it took a long time to boil water in the freezing kitchen. I ate a few pieces of candy to stave off hunger, the Chinese equivalent of Chik-o-stiks. NIgel knocked, gave me my package: a small box from my parents, just in time. It contained a tiny bear ornament, some buckeyes and kickass fruitcake.

We ate pasta with small undercooked peas and tomato sauce, had some wine. I still felt bad. Nigel knocked midmeal and gave a lecture about the kitchen stuff they had used, identifying what was school property and what was he and Shi's shit. He is unbearably excrutiating.

I watched "Secrets of World War II", dozed off, dreamt of zombies.