Christmas living alone

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Yes, Axolotls are lovely creatures.

The major triumph of today is that that nut roast is the oven, and everything else canned is ready to go (including canned fried onions, my favourite Christmas treat), and it is only 21 00 hours in england.

New Years Eve is the one time of the year when I actively celebrate being alone. It is a socially toxic time.

Agh, it isn't New Years Eve. Bastard. It's not over yet, grrrr.

Oh, I love Aoxolotls,
They need hot water bottles,
Good ones that do not leak,
And when they cuddle up they squeak.

There's nothing quite as neat as,
This little fishy foetus,
If you can understand a,
Larval Salamander,

They sing a song of Christmas,
And many more to come,
And live on pies and chips mashed,
And have little lives of Fun.

Thank you My mind is racing on to pangolins with mandolins and echidnas at the window, but it is all getting too daft.

Happy New Criswell to one and all!

Criswell figures in geek history, he was possibly the most unreliable psychic ever, and a media figure in 1950's America

Criswell was part of a group of people that a film maker called Ed Wood gathered around him, a bit like Andy Warhol did. Ed Wood was a natural eccentric, and surrounded himself with eccentrics. Tim Burton made a film about Ed Wood, trailer

So . . . me and words. At 61 my neurological abundance (if that theory is correct), has pruned back a lot from earlier years, but I am much given to words, or rather words are much given to me.

Sometimes verses arrive as if ready formed, or come in three groups, or two groups then the last group has to be hammered out.

My brain sometimes tries to think of at least three things at once, and prefers five. Autistic people can speak in puns and jokes that only mean something to themselves (it feels better that way).

So my analysis of the words Happy Criswell.

Criswell sounds a little bit like the word Christ, and New Year is not Christmas, and Criswell is howlingly unlike Christ, so it is perfectly obvious to me, when words are much given to me, to call New Year's Eve Criswell. That is an example of rationality on Planet Alexanderplatz, at the time of the arrival of words.

In the depth of it, the word Criswell is close to the word Christ Well, or Christ's Well. Again, this reverberates ironically as Criswell was a total charlatan. From my reading of Literature there is also the significance of wells in play in my mind, something that cropped up in a film I recently watched, so that is in it as well.

From Wikipedia
"Criswell married a former speakeasy dancer named Halo Meadows, who once appeared on You Bet Your Life, and whom Coulombe describes as "quite mad": "Mrs Criswell had a huge standard poodle (named "Buttercup") which she was convinced was the reincarnation of her cousin Thomas."

I do not think more than one thing at a time but my thoughts leap from one idea to another with connections that appear very odd to other people but there is always a connection in my mind. I also have word connection based on words being similar in sound or shape to each other, so that if they have a common theme then I am bound to bet them wrong. I have to list them both in order to make sure I get the name right which makes me look like I don't know the subject when it's only one word that's a problem eg I love history but Crimean and Korean. Sevastopol and Salamanca. And with names George Orwell, Orson Welles, and Oscar Wilde, I have to list them to get the right one.