Winter solstice longest night

Wednesday, Winter Solstice, 2016

Nothing is happening.  My fingers search the keys of the laptop for some pebbly words.  Last night I bought two immense bottles of liquor —  gin and rum — and some Tom and Jerry batter.  I had a couple of Tom and Jerrys then watched an episode of Inspector Morse solve a murder.  Several of them, actually.  Of course I feel mixed up.  E. Alden is coming round so I can take him shopping for new shoes and sweatpants.  Socks too, probably.

This evening at the church of the Fervently Religious we will celebrate the “longest night.”  Of course, the longest night ever was the one after my girlfriend gave me the boot and I cried.  Actually, I didn’t cry.  Just felt like it.  One whiny country music recording after another on the radio in Dillon, Montana.

Tonight’s celebration will ask us to bring forth photographs of our dead from whom we would like release.  Of course, I’ll look for photographs of Tom, Dana, and Hannah and possibly my old girlfriend.  I have lots of photos of Hannah.  The reason I don’t have many of Dana:  I gave them to Hannah when she last visited here.  They were both much bigger than life and I am not finding Dana’s death easy to believe.  It’s just hard to imagine a world without her on it.