Today's advent offering:
Four Christmas tree present tags. I'm ok with that.
Esty calendar has this nice chandelier:
The best thing about today was sort of the worst in prospect: ie. a interview for which I was completely unprepared which turned out delightful. It also involved seeing Pierre Louys' carefully crafted penis signature:
... and this lovely drawing Saint-Exupéry did in a vain attempt to seduce a much younger woman he met on a train and fell in love with.
It was actually an exhibition of love letters, but they were quite hard to photograph and some of the illustrations were so beautiful and affecting, like Prévert's flowers and Cocteau's sweet sausagey dogs:
Enough loveliness. Back to BITTER MOANING.
(i) Behind on work to an oppressive degree, now back at the foot of the Terrifying Work Mountain and visibility is poor.
(ii) Horrifying expense of Christmas.
(iii) My agent has sent me a bundle of What Is To Be Done (I imagine this intoned, Lenin style) and I am too chicken to open it. I could not be more out of love with this project, which is now my Christmas millstone. I know I should be delighted there's any progress, but fuck all has happened for a year and I now hate every word I have written. Ever. Yes, that one too. I'll get back into it somehow, I must.
(iv) Dog has ruined its chances of being invited back to whippet owning neighbour for Christmas by making insistent advances towards her new (male) dog. He is obsessed and driven wild with desire for the creature, who I will admit is extremely handsome. Oscar's sexuality is not something I have had to contemplate until now, since the only thing he has ever expressed any desire towards is a large stuffed toy (now disposed of), but this undignified park rutting (and brrrr, licking) is quite distasteful. Yes, I am immensely repressed.
(v) F is very slowly and carefully reading me every single one of the "jokes" on the advent thingy he got with his magazine today. They include things like "why does Santa wear yellow braces? To keep his trousers up", and that's one of the better ones. I need to invent a tradition along the lines of "Saint Nicolas won't come if you are telling jokes", and sharpish.