December 23: Yule Love This Poem, Done, Magic 8-Ball

Yes, my Christmas poem is finished.  I worked on it for another four hours this morning.  That's after four hours on Friday, eight hours on Saturday, and two hours on Sunday.  In total, 18 hours of writing.  Now, that may sound horrible to some of you.  For me, it was the best part of the holiday season.  I actually accomplished something of value, which hasn't happened for a long time.

With that task accomplished, I can now turn my attention to the minutiae of Christmas Eve.  Wrapping presents.  Getting a haircut.  Practicing music.  Shoveling snow for a friend who recently had surgery.  Feeling bitter and devalued.  Going to therapy appointments.  You know, the usual.

Not to worry, my disciples.  You will get a chance to read my poem soon.  I will be posting it on Christmas day, along with my essay.  That's my present to you guys.  Please note that over the next two days (Christmas Eve, and Christmas day) I will be posting only once a day.  That's my Christmas present to myself.  A little time to relax.

I'm at the point with my poem where I'm not sure it's actually any good.  I've been working on it too long.  I've lost my objectivity.  Words and images have started to run together.  Plus, I'm really tired.  So, I'm going to turn to Holden to answer the question:

Is my Christmas poem good?

And Holden's response is:

Naturally, I never told him I thought he was a terrific whistler.  I mean you don't just go up to somebody and say, "You're a terrific whistler."

So Holden thinks his former roommate at Elkton Hills, Harris Macklin, was a really good whistler.  He never tells Harris.  But, if Harris is a good whistler, then, by extrapolation, I must be a good poet.  I know that logic isn't quite foolproof, but I'm going with it.

Saint Marty's poem is "terrific."

Ho, ho, ho!