You know, as a vampire, I gotta tell you, Christmas ain't one of my favorite holidays.
I'm sure that doesn't come as a complete surprise to you all. But still it needs to be said. Not because we vampires are the soulless undead who despise and fear everything holy. That's not how vampires are--well, some of them are--but it's not a mandatory trait. In fact, I know several quite devout vamps. I came from a very religious family myself.
I dislike... (I won't go so far as to say hate--but give me another century or so, then get back to me on that one) I dislike Christmas because it's so damned commercial. It's true. When I was a kid, Christmas was magical. I remember going to Grant Park with my older brother, Jimmy, to see the lighting of the Christmas tree. Even if we had a couple hits that day, we'd get them done and be there in time to see those beautiful lights come on and fill the air with holiday cheer. And we always went to the candlelight mass on Christmas Eve. Well, except for the year when Dad had to go whack a no-good named Stinky Vic. But even then, Mom had us all to church on Christmas Day. She also gave Dad a good talking to--and Dad never missed a mass again.
Not the mention from December 24th to the New Year, we'd put off roughing up some no-good who'd, say, stiffed our father on a deal. Or didn't make good on a debt. (well, with the exception of Stinky Vic--but that was really an unusual circumstance, which I will tell you about at a later date.) And if they had kids, we'd even give them couple days before Christmas Eve. No kids should spend their holiday visiting Pop in the hospital.
Back then, it was about the generosity of spirit and kindness and good will to others. And it was about family. Most importantly about family. My mother, Rosaleen, would make a huge dinner. My whole family would gather and we'd share stories of Christmases back in the homeland. My uncle Declan would play his fiddle and we'd sing old Christmas songs. And of course there were gifts. But I cared more about my family and being with them.
Now, it's about the stuff. The goods. What great and expensive toys will be waiting under the tree in the morning.
Not the mention from December 24th to the New Year, we'd put off roughing up some no-good who'd, say, stiffed our father on a deal. Or didn't make good on a debt. (well, with the exception of Stinky Vic--but that was really an unusual circumstance, which I will tell you about at a later date.) And if they had kids, we'd even give them couple days before Christmas Eve. No kids should spend their holiday visiting Pop in the hospital.
Back then, it was about the generosity of spirit and kindness and good will to others. And it was about family. Most importantly about family. My mother, Rosaleen, would make a huge dinner. My whole family would gather and we'd share stories of Christmases back in the homeland. My uncle Declan would play his fiddle and we'd sing old Christmas songs. And of course there were gifts. But I cared more about my family and being with them.
Now, it's about the stuff. The goods. What great and expensive toys will be waiting under the tree in the morning.
And that ain't right. It makes me sad. Which is why, now I actually choose to work. To be with my makeshift musical family. I worked Christmas with the band. We didn't go to mass or sing Christmas songs, but we did drink a lot.
Speaking of which, we are also working New Year's...well, some of us.
Come check us out if you happen to be around.
Come check us out if you happen to be around.
Here is the place and a list of times...*
Fat Catz
438 Bourbon Street
New Orleans, LA
Friday 29th at 8 pm
Saturday 30th at 8 pm
Sunday 31st at 8 pm
Come on by and get impaled. We dare you.
*These dates and the location are real, and Paul a.k.a. Johnny will be playing.
