Okay so it's about to be my birthday, but I'm declaring an end to all official days of celebration.
For Adults, Kids, EVERYONE.
Christmas is over. Forever.
It was nice while it lasted, but it had to go. In our culture of overconsumption we have everything we need - and then some, so Christmas gifts are out. Down here in Australia for Christmas we have fake snow, fake icicles, everything to make it look like winter, in the middle of summer. Stoopid. There will be Glacier Saving CO2 emission reductions from the end of travel to myriad destinations where we are expected but mostly don't want to be on Christmas Day. Waistlines will be sharpened with the end of gluttonous overeating celebrating the birth of someone most of us don't believe existed. We can forget being more 'straight' or polite for those relatives who are not so tolerant, or of whom we are less tolerant; and annual family Christmas arguments will become myth. Peace and quiet will fill the land!
Santa: You're Sacked.
Pack your bags Easter Bunny.
Who eats boatloads of chocolate to celebrate the death of someone? If you're truly stricken with grief you'll have no appetite at all. We are pulling the plug, there'll be a fall in diabetes and obesity; and hot cross buns can be replaced with HOT BUNS mmmm.
Anyone for rabbit stew?
Father's Day / Mother's Day.
Really it's just like Christmas, but for those who aren't procreationally challenged. Blatant discrimination. The pressure to be nice and declare one's parents are the best in the world are features for this celebration. Maybe they are, but maybe they're not. If your kids are rejects, they'll turn up on mother's/father's day expecting a free feed that you'll have to prepare. Be kind to your parents, if you want, and surprise them with gifts and your company when they least expect it. They'll be much happier. Parents' days are done.
Well, where do we start? If you like yellow brick roads, then these may be for you. But if you're really committed to the person you love, then people will see that and know that. You'll be lugging each other's groceries home in the rain and finding their favourite delicacy at that little shop at the end of that narrow lane with the one missing cobblestone that you always trip in. You don't need to spend 10 business class round-the-world airfares for a day of airbrushed photos with people you won't get enough time to speak to for more than a minute or two, even if you really really want to, to prove you love someone. Oh and at least in Australia if you're gay you can't officially get married anyway. Stuff it.
First Class Lounge: Here I come!
Australia Day / [insert your own] National Day.
I appreciate my country for what it is. Unreservedly. I don't appreciate folk who drape a flag around themselves and pretend they're more Australian than someone else or beat their hands on their chest with pride at their country's achievements. Quiet achievers are far and away the ones I respect the most. Do it. Do it well. And make it even better for the next guy/gal. If you want to drink yourself into oblivion, call it alcoholism, not nationalism. If you want to wave a flag, do it for everyone, better still give the flag to someone who might not recognise it. Smile. And go build a wind farm.
Valentine's Day is Abolished. Now the proof you are in love is no longer defined by a dozen long stemmed Crimson Roses being delivered with Lindt Chocolates to your lover's workplace. Facebook will no longer be filled with videos of proposals being made on this one official day of romance. Be like the stereotypical French and be amorous every day. Kiss in the street, on the train, in the park, make love every day. The gate is open spread forth the love, just don't limit it to February 14th.
It's the day you came out of your mother's vagina, or possibly you were cut out surgically. Hardly a day to celebrate, better a day to forget and move on. Oh that's right, we don't talk about vaginas or caesareans. Shhh, if you're quiet the day will go by and nobody will utter a word. "What about this weather!" "Look at all the birds and the bees... oh wait, no".
I had an email from a reader today pointing out that I hadn't written on Superchilled for a year and encouraging me to start posting again. I checked the blog and it has indeed been a year. I'm a little flattered that I've been missed. Truth is I have a number of half written posts in 'notes' on my iPhone accumulated over this time. Times when I've felt inspiration on a plane, train or in a gap somewhere in a consciously chaotic world.
So I'm going to post some of these unfinished posts, because maybe they're more interesting unfinished than they would be if I finished them. Not quite the 'unfinished symphony' but grabs at least from my mind over the recent past.
About New Year's Eve
New Year's Eve until I was in my mid twenties was spent around a campfire with extended family and perhaps an odd smattering of friends. Staring at the animated embers, chatting about the past year and contemplating the year to come. There'd be an occasional song, a lot of laughter and at midnight the big thing was streamers being thrown at the person opposite you over the fire then falling into the fire and burning..
Falling in love is the subject of countless songs, books, movies and, undoubtably, psychology sessions. It's a time when your whole biochemistry is modified. You see the world in a different hue. The person who is the focus of your attention is fascinating, beautiful and flawless. At least that's how you'll see it. You want to spend all your time with them and pine for them when they're not around. You may even feel incomplete without them.
It's understandable that people get addicted to falling in love and move from one budding relationship to the next once the biochemistry normalises, the flaws enlarge and beauty fades. And right now you're expecting the talk about 'staying for the course'..
And as I sit down on this Free-seated Yangon Air flight I sense something in the air. And it's not the plane. There must be years of vomit here, all not quite completely cleaned up. And every seat I try has it. I start to wonder if their budget for cleaning and customer experience is higher or lower than their maintenance budget. And pray that it is lower, much much lower.
Not a hell of a lot of postage. But there you go. I started reading the second book by the author of London Preppy during my recent travel, finishing it while on my annual pilgrimage to Byron Bay. "HIGHLIGHTS OF MY LAST REGRET" by North Morgan. I enjoyed the read, but yet not. It's an unrested book. Maybe finishing it and moving onto something a little closer to me was what let me finally relax, and mid way through the break my sense of unrest was gone, a light switched off.
I swim, cycle and run and like to win.
Superchilled is about things that attract my attention, things that interest me, or random thoughts that pass by. It's littered with sexy things and feedback about everything is welcomed.