Leo Kottke, Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring

Very prettily intricate, to my not-a-musician ears.

OK, so we plan on a nice Christmas Eve steakhouse dinner with the family and my mama. We end up with not just my mama, but three more folks from her church and worst of all, my nihilist nephew whom I’ve grown to detest after watching him remain a 6 year old for 16 years past his time as a 6 year old despite everybody in the family tripping over themselves to give him a hand up, myself included. The humongously fat asshole nephew refused to order anything at dinner, so that probably saved me $100. But it was an utter embarrassment to the rest of the table and pretty much made it impossible for anyone else to enjoy their dinner (except me — I had no trouble knocking back a gorgeous 7 oz. filet with sauteed mushrooms and ). Then he made my step-daughter cry. Then he engaged my wife in some goofy-ass Nitschean bullshit about low expectations and negativity. Neither of them are equipped to do any kind of serious philosophical battle, so it would have been funny — on any night but Christmas Eve. So, I paid, and hustled everybody right on out of there.

But that ain’t the point. The nice candlelight church service at my mom’s church before the dysfunctional dinner is the point. I have a hard time remembering what this whole CHRISTMAS!!1! thing is about, as I swipe cards and write checks and distribute cash. That seems to be my main function anymore…a walking, breathing ATM. But this evening, I felt touched, and got a little bit weepy, at a simple little church service that was as generic stock production as they come. While I’ve heard this story a million times, though, it still means more to me than I can ever express. Those 60 minutes were just what I needed to remind me that I’m a very lucky man, to have the mama that I have and the family that I have and the work that I have, and most of all, that I’ve been touched by God through his Son, Jesus Christ.

In some ways, I wish I could wake up tomorrow in a tent on the lip of a canyon to a gorgeous sunrise and chirping birdies and a frosty coffee pot, without any of the clutter and clatter that makes up modern life. In other ways, I’m glad I’m here where I am, looking forward to seeing my family again tomorrow and plowing through a day of capitalistic celebration. No matter what, though, I need to find some time to remember to be reverently thankful for that little baby in a manger.

Merry Christmas, yall.

Now that it’s really Christmas, I’m listening to some Marshall Tucker…it’s shocking how much a flute can add to a cowboy song.

Remember when these guys were the scourge of all parental units? All the kids were going to be little Satanists because of AC/DC.

You can’t not love Angus Young. Not a guitar god, but the crazy little bastard is definitely in the Top 5 Entertaining Rock-n-Roll Guitarists of All Time.

AC/DC cycles up in the iPod sometimes and it’s always a “crank it up” moment, and a “whoops…better slow down” moment at the end of the song. I’d even probably go see them live, if just to hang out with all my other pot-bellied, grey-haired, head-banging contemporaries.