Can you imagine Norman Mailer's metaphor, NASA Rockets and satellites blowing spent jet fuel, floating in space, disturbing angels highly tuned sensitivities?
Sometimes the best Christmas memories are unconventional and have less to do with garlands, cozy fire places, christmas cookies, eggnog, the giving of stuff, having more to do with love and magic, seeking out first-time adventure.
Henry the snow-bird going to Alcapulco with his parents on Christmas, 1966, he was sixteen. The Las Hamacas Hotel, on the street… near the bay. The Las Hamacas, best breakfast ever, fresh baked french roles, avocados, great Mexican coffee, enjoying the feeling near the pool, fresh bright white linens on the tables, surrounded by large coconut and banana trees.
Christmas Eve a nice day, after breakfast Henry headed to the taco bar across from his hotel and ordered a pineapple margarita, he sat at table on the beach, a great juke-box,45 RPM disc, Sop-with Camel, The Strawberry Alarm Clock, some Jefferson Airplane.
Henry sixteen, easily tempted, astute lover of everything sensual, fresh fruit and flowers, psychedelic music, incense, exotic and erotic literature, always reading: Hemingway, Henry Miller, Anis Nin, William Faulkner, William Butler Yeats, Langston Hughes, John Cheever, Kerouac, the Kama Sutra his favorite and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, spinning it out.
He saw a young guy and a girl approaching, crossing the street, coming from the hotel, walking arm in arm. Henry leaning in their direction, all teenagers, asking them to sit down with him? They were from Pasadena, California, brother and sister, fifteen and sixteen, their names were Spider and Moon, Moon fetching, willowy, wearing glasses, long hair, new breast, nymph-like, a child who had recently become a women, Spider hip, lean, tanned, Southern California the cool.
After a few drinks Spiswe said he felt something near, like a shadow, it was one the locals called the Magician. Spike went to the back of the cafe, on the beach, when he came back he had a thumbed size bag of golden buds, a finger of Acapulco Gold.
We Three Kings went back to the Las Hamacas, hid away in hotel room toilet, padding the door edge with a towel to keep the pot fumes in. It was Henry's first time. By dusk we went outside sitting on the edge of the pool with our legs in the water.
Smelling ocean and tropics, piquant, pulling you. Skipping small stones in the pool, laying flower peddles on water, rippling circles expanding outward, chakras perspiring, opening up, attuned, flora magnified a thousand times.
On Christmas Day We Three Kings woke at sun-rise and caught a taxi to a beach out of town, the run-down movie set of the TV show Tarzan .The beach full of Mexicans on Christmas Holiday. The huts used on the Tarzan set had been annexed by the local Mexicans, they set up bars in the beach-huts, grills that cooking fresh fish, Parrot and Grouper, Red-Sea Bass, plenty beer on ice, soda, no neon signs anywhere.
Christmas day, the ocean was like a free juke-box, waves repetitive, rhythmic, Mexicans sat up-right in close-set groups on blankets, drinking, eating, cantina music coming from a radios, the atmosphere was festive.
We Three Kings wanting to drink beer, Spider the oldest sixteen, the Mexican vendors didn't give a shit, we bought Corona with limes by the arms-full, played in the ocean, Henry and Moon talking allot about what is life, existence? Is there a God? What kind of music do you like? Meeting on a mental level, both virgins, blasted on beer.
After sunset, we went back to the Los Hamacas
tired, wanting to rest. We went to Spider's and Moon's room, two single beds, Henry and Moon in one bed, Spike passed out in the other.
Henry and Moon, every breath new, deep tongue kissing, opening buttons and zippers, fumbling, getting naked, almost there, Henry finding her vagina lubing her with coconut oil, with effort going inside her, Moon-girl surprised, shocked some, not feeling much, Henry coming in 15 seconds, enjoying the smell of her vagina, both hugging when it was over, laughing, drinking beer, in sync, full of the joy of sex and maybe some Christmas cheer.
Rattled some, thinking of sex, Henry had forgotten Christmas dinner with his parents. He was walking out the patio door of Moon's room to take a swim in the pool and his Mom cornered him, he knew what was coming, his Mother saying...
"Henry where have you been all day, your Father and I have been worried sick about you, we think you have been up to something, you didn't leave a note" and so on…
His Mother tap dancing on his head some and lecturing, sermonizing, Henry juiced.
"Henry you missed Mass, this is Christmas, A time for families to be together, to pay respect to the Lord, I can smell beer on you. Maybe you should go to confession tomorrow, Henry this and that, blah, blah...blah."
His Mother and Father Martini drinkers, into all kinds of shit, committed Catholics, hip in their own way.
For Henry this was truly wonderful Christmas, but not the usual thing.
We Three Kings given the gift of life's pleasures by the Lord on Christmas. For Henry the best Christmas on record, no churches or crucifixes, no cozy fire, no fat dinner, just the magic colored lights of the city, on the Acapulco streets, in the bars. We Three Kings, the best Christmas gift of all, Moon, Henry and Spider, having a spiritual Christmas, green and red colored gamma-rays everywhere, the true stuff.