National Nothing Day

Today is one of the more interesting holidays. January 16 is National Nothing Day. The intention is to have one day where there is nothing to celebrate. One in seven January 16th often fall on Martin Luther King, Jr Day, which is the third Monday of January, thereby usurping the concept of celebrating nothing. However, celebrating nothing can come in many forms. Perhaps for the whole day you respond with nothing. What are you plans today? Nothing. What’s for dinner? Nothing. Perhaps you send an email with nothing written and leave it blank. I think one should decide what nothing truly means to them and take appropriate action.

Nothing is a pronoun meaning not anything, no single thing. I think one could argue that it doesn’t mean the absence of things but a lack of distinction. This might propose some existential questions, but I believe that nothing does not mean a lack of things. In a way, this post is really about nothing. I do hope you’ll all leave nothing in the comments. I had considered not posting at all today. But no post would be something. And a post about nothing is something. And also nothing. What is anything really? What is nothing?

In 1972, columnist Harold Pullman Coffin proposed National Nothing Day. The day has been observed in all its nothingness since 1973.  The observance is sponsored by Coffin’s National Nothing Foundation, registered in Capitola, California.

Yuletide Aviary – Part 5

Read Part 4


            “What do you say we have one more round, Eh?” Jacob says.

            “I’m good for one more.” Thomas says.

            “How do you drink that stuff. It tastes so awful.”

            “With rum.”

            “Lutin? Two more drinks for me and my friend here.”

            Lutin pours another rum eggnog and pops the top off another bottle. The two birds sip and sigh together.

            “Any plans after the end of the season?” Jacob says.

            “Nah, going back home for a bit. Nothing special. You?”

            “Thought I’d take a trip down to somewhere warmer.”

            “Where to?”

            “Haven’t decided. I thought about Florida, but I’m okay with never going to Florida, Eh?’

            “I ain’t going to Florida.”

            “Anyhoo, I’ll find someplace nice and fly down for a couple weeks.” 

            “Sounds nice. Unless you’re just going somewhere to steal eggs.”

            “For Pete’s sake, Tommy, I don’t eat fertilized eggs. It’s like less than one percent of Jays that do that and they’re, you know, coocoo or whatever, Eh?”

            “Damn cannibal.”

            “Well, at least I don’t go pickin’ fights with my reflection?”

            “What the hell does that mean?”

            “It means you’re coocoo for fighting the mirror, Eh. You’d be great at hockey if we put mirrors on the players’ helmets.”

            “I don’t fight mirrors. There was another guy who just happened to look like me givin’ me the eyes.”

            “What eyes?”

            “You know? The eyes. Like he wants to fight.”

            “You always look like you wanna fight.”
            “’Cause guys like that always give me the eyes.”

            The door to the shop bursts open.

            “Good evening…gentlemen.”

            “Ah, jeez.”

            “Welcome back, Ben.” Lutin says.

            “Was I…here before?” Benjamin says.

            “Yep.”

            “Is Ben givin’ me the eyes!? You better not be givin’ me the eyes!”

            “I should have left after my last drink.” Jacob says.

            “I’ll be passing soon…very soon.”

            “Ah, jeez.”

            And so, it continues every night during our delivery season. A few birds gather in one of our shops as many others deliver toys and presents. These birds and elves who do all the work are the backbone of this holiday season. Most humans give me all the credit, especially the children. But I’m here to tell you Santa has never done it alone. Until next year. Farewell.

Flashback Friday Poetry: Losing Heart

i once made a decision
to leave all i knew behind
this thought made with precision
to seek out what i can’t find
the future i envisioned
now seems false within my mind
a fault that i must revise

searching with contemplation
ignoring my self-made lies
fighting the captivation
from this gutter i will rise
now with thoughts of corruption
that corrupt my tearless eyes
it’s the time; i must decide

nothing Is left here for me
nothing gives me peace inside
i have no reason to be
someplace that gives me no pride
to the place that sets me free
that gives me no reason to hide
a place where my heart won’t grind

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.